Golden Heart
by Sweetly-Sadistic's-Romanticide
Summary: A young woman staggers into the sewers, a bride half frozen to death. Upon discovering her Erik tries his hardest to ignore her painful story and send her away but the need for someones love drives him to care for the lost girl. Will she melt the pain? RR
1. Chapter 1

-1The water was cold, so very cold, chilling her flesh and striking her bones marrow like tiny needles. Freezing drafts of wind blew in behind her, making her clothes cling to her wet back and settle in a cold hard way like stale bread. It was dark, so dark her eyes could not pierce the gloom that seemed to be a shadow from hell looming to swallow her. The wall she kept her shaky hand to was icy and wet yet it was slimed over. The stones under her feet were slippery.

Its been a while since she last heard the bustle of the street she had left over an hour ago. The sounds had followed her, terrifying her as if it was them rushing to catch her. La Rue Scribe had seemed the only escape after running so long from them. The open tunnel into the sewers under the streets had seemed a haven. How idiotic was she? She was freezing slowly and lost in a pitch black underworld. Somehow it still seemed preferable to what she had left behind.

The only way she knew she was leaving the world above was the cold wind that gusted at her spontaneously from the wintry land above. As she headed deeper it became colder but in a more horrifying way. It felt like the icy chill of death, heavy and teeming, paralyzing not only the body but the soul.

Evelyn's teeth clicked continually as they shuddered from the frosty bite, cooling her face into a mask. Her satin slippers were ruined and gave practically no hold under the water as she waded, mid-thigh high up in the sluggish murk. Her sea gray eyes darted in the dark, trying vainly to see anything beyond the blankness.

As her foot landed on a stone she felt it slip out from under her. Flailing her arms she struggled with her mostly dead legs to stand but to no avail. With a yell she landed in the freezing water, submerging herself completely. Coming up she rubbed her eyes, gasping for air with pinched lungs. Evelyn gave a frustrated, despairing scream and smashed her fist into the water, splattering herself more. A sniffle escaped her, followed by a desperate sob. Hot tears filled her eyes despite the fact the rest of her was frozen. Their heat died quickly though as they streaked her icy cheeks.

Standing up wobbly she pushed her wet, red curls from her face and rubbed her blind eyes again. She paused when she felt the solid touch of her ring on her left hand. Actually she was vaguely surprised she could feel anything considering everything was numb, including her chattering teeth.

Trembling Evelyn slipped it off and turned it over in her fingers, blankly staring at the darkness. Her wedding…she almost laughed bitterly at the thought. Oh, the sudden wedding wasn't a surprise; she had known of the arrangement since birth. When she was a little girl she used to dress up and giggle, imagining to be a bride. To be honest she was looking forward to it until…well, until mother died, she supposed. That's when everything went downhill, the chip that made the castle crumble. Not to mention that's when she realized how much of a lecherous pig, her fiancé, Marquis de Laterr, was.

Wearily Evelyn patted the soaked dress she wore, still holding the ring with a finger. The snake couldn't even buy her a decent ring, she snorted. Just a plain band. She wasn't greedy or materialistic, in fact she would have hated a grand wedding ring. But the fact he didn't care enough to try drove the stake home to the idea that she loathed the man.

The dress had been quite pretty, actually. It was more than likely ruined now but she didn't care. It was sleeveless, the rim hugged tight to her bosom, the corset pinching her waist uncomfortably. The ivory colored gown reached the floor, its folds loose, not blooming out like the older models. Tiny blue sequins danced in an elegant pattern along the bust and back. The veil clasped by the pins in her hair had fallen off when she ran from the chapel to escape her fate.

Evelyn choked on her tongue. But she hadn't escaped. When they had stood at the altar, her lips could not form the words she wanted to scream, her legs would not carry her away before it was too late. To her utter horror, it was. She had watched in mute anguish as Laterr leaned in to place a suggestive kiss on her unresponsive lips. Finally when they turned to walk down the aisle, her nerves finally reacted to the truth, kicking in to send her flying out of the church.

The heavy pound of running boots echoed in her ears as she remembered how Laterr's men chased her, the marquis yelling for someone to stop his wife. A muscle in her stomach twitched at the thought.

With an angry, loud yell Evelyn hurled the little golden ring as far and hard as she could, panting for breath. Her joints were stiff and sore but she smiled when the sound of a plop reached out to her ears.

"I-I am no-no one's wife," she declared bitterly, through shaky lips. With her sudden anger exhausted she reached out to find the wall even though she could no longer remember which way she had came. Touching the slimy stones she came closer to it but found herself stopped. At first she had thought that her legs had finally died before she realized that her thighs had bumped into a stone ledge that rose an inch above the cold water. It felt like the beginning of a walkway.

Tiredly Evelyn sat down, finding enough weary strength to pull her legs up after her. Wrapping her arms about her legs she sniffled and sneezed, feeling no longer truly cold but rather heavy and sleepy. Huddling into a little ball Evelyn shivered violently.

Alright, so there were two possibilities as she thought about it, her mind dumbly fumbling to think. One was to die of cold or wander blindly through the tunnels blindly forever. Or be caught by Laterr's men and taken back to her upset 'husband'. She shuddered inwardly when she thought of his temper.

One time they had been dining on one of his few political meetings with her father over the engagement when Laterr had snapped. A servant had tripped on a rug and sent a plate of desserts clattering to the floor. The girl tried feverishly to apologize but it had not mattered. Laterr stood and promptly punched her, sending her reeling to the ground. Father laughed.

Evelyn trembled in fear. If his men did find her, she was afraid to witness his rage. She had publicly embarrassed him, in front of the monarchy and city. He would beat her senseless. Despite the threat she privately felt proud that she could hit his ego so hard.

She'd definitely rather die than stay married to him. So she sat there, trembling in the dark, waiting to die of pneumonia.

If only father hadn't been such a greedy bastard, her weary mind spat. Evelyn had never been close to father. He never noticed her existence unless it came to the marriage. And for the last few years he was on her needs, hand and foot. It wasn't any source of fondness for his sudden devotion. No, mother had died in childbirth with her sister when she was sixteen.

The next three years were spent in paying off gambling debts as father drank and wasted his life away. Evelyn couldn't really guess if he had loved mother or if it was the dowry he had lost in her death. After they had lost their fortune, the family had been plunged into social purgatory, leaving nothing but a large, empty mansion on the outskirts of town.

She remembered when Laterr had questioned the loss of furniture, father replied that he didn't like to waste money on extravagance. The marquis found that perfectly marvelous and mentioned he hoped the daughter shared similar likes of barrenness. Pig…

Evelyn was just her father's ticket to getting rich again. And to help pay off debts to the monarchy. It was so funny how much he believed she would just demurely go into this marriage. So confident was he that he hadn't even come to the wedding. No, he was off in London on a luncheon with nobility. Won't he be surprised when he hears the news?

Tiredly she rested her head on her knees and shivered badly. Her poisonous recollections left her miserable. Large tears welled in her hazel eyes and she sneezed forlornly. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was not what she had planned for her future. Weddings were supposed to be happy and full of laughter and smiles. They're not meant for money and resentment. Her family should be there and she should smile at her groom, her love.

"Amour(love)?" she gasped through a sob. Love was the one thing she could never have. Not ever. Not after Louis. Evelyn cried pitifully, burying her face in the stiffened, frozen folds of her dress. Her body was utterly numb to her now and her tears were freezing to her face with the river water. Evelyn didn't know how long she sat there, quietly slipping in and out of sleep. She'd rather die than live in a lovelorn marriage. But another part still did not want to die.

Slowly she felt her mind and could feel her mind drift and could feel her heartbeat loudly beat in her chest. She almost laughed but coughed instead. Its not like it mattered if she died now, she supposed. Her illness wouldn't allow her to live beyond the age of twenty-six anyway.

A sudden bright light flared, burning the back of her eyelids. When had her eyes closed? The lashes were frozen together, forcing her to fight to open them. At first she thought it to be the glow of heaven but then she heard the water and the dripping from the ceilings. Heaven shouldn't be in a tunnel!

Evelyn's eyes fluttered open, the tiny ice crystals on her eyelashes reflecting and blurring her gaze. To her right, deeper down where the darkness had been deepening there was now the brilliance of golden light.

Blued lips moving weakly Evelyn tried to call out but her lungs felt frozen to where she couldn't breathe. Her sight darkened to nothingness. She sighed in relief. They didn't find her. She will die before Laterr could touch her again.


	2. Chapter 2

-1

Erik stared, half-curiously and half in suspicion at the corpse-like woman that sat on the walkway before him. He had been wandering the tunnels aimlessly until he had reached a part where not even he could see. After lighting the lantern the once Phantom of the Opera jumped, startled that he had not heard the woman who sat only feet away. His hearing must be going.

It had been three weeks since she had left with the fop, leaving him to mourn and flee deeper into the darkness. At one point he returned to his home to find police cleaning it out and milling about, searching for him. Brooding in a room he had set far away from the other humans, Erik bitterly despaired his life. Christine…why? His mind kept asking.

He had tried. He really had. Everything he did was in love for her. It was his want to make her happy and triumphant in her life. He sang for her, he hid for her, he killed for her! For so many years he tried to woo her and show her his pain. It was all he lived for, all he cared about. And for a while he believed she truly understood.

Christine had sang for him and had even cried once for him. 'Poor, unhappy Erik,' she whispered despairingly. The angel had even kissed him. But it hadn't been for him. She did it to release R-…that boy.

Erik had truly believed she loved him, even just in the corner of her heart. But look where he was. Under the ground, without his possessing love or music, just as he had been so long ago.

Despite all this anger and depression he couldn't bring himself to hate Christine. He still loved her and would do anything for her happiness. In a morbid way he sated himself with the idea that this must make her happy: her life with that boy.

Even though he felt bitter, angry and sorrowed Erik continued to exist. He wouldn't call it living; just survival. Why? Why did he go on? For a long while he couldn't think of why until it hit him like a sheet of glass.

Daroga was right; he just wasn't the type to give in and wallow in suicidal thoughts. He'd brood and growl at life but he wouldn't give God the satisfaction of his surrender. He made him suffer enough but he was not going to win. Just to prove his determination he even went to the surface to find deeds to a house.

And now he finds a young woman in the tunnels of the opera, looking quite dead. She wore a tattered wedding gown, the sight of which made Erik's heart wrench. Only a couple of weeks ago Christine had been wearing the dress he had made for her. He smirked as he thought of how many times he had accidentally poked himself with the sowing needle and spent an hour or so cursing.

The girl's skin was marble-like from the cold, thin and fragile like paper. The eyelids were a heavy blue like her lips as blood tried to surge its way through the veins. Water had frozen to her skin like tiny tears along her face and arms. Her long dreadlocked red hair was plastered to her face and shoulders. Huddled over in the white gown she appeared like a flower in the depths of winter.

As Erik watched the light he produced affect her, the woman's eyes struggled open. Pale green gazed at him in a lost, empty sort of way before closing again. Her lips mumbled incoherently as she fell asleep. In the light she seemed to glow against the dark, foreboding rocks and dank water.

What should he do? She would surely die if he left her here. Then again, she might die even if he tried to save her. He could take her up to the cellars of the opera. But what if they didn't find her in time? What if she tells them what she had seen? Would they search deeper for him? His heart wilted a bit, looking at her frail, youthful body and sad face despite his wishes to just abandon this.

She looked so vulnerable and small, much like Christine had when he found her in the little chapel, praying for an angel. A flame of anger burst in his heart at his foolish actions then. He turned to leave. Why should he help her? Why? So she can turn around and stab him in the back? No!

Erik turned slowly, watching the line of his lantern light float over the girl's form and leave it in the semi-darkness. He took a step back toward his temporary home but stopped when a little voice cried out in the back of his mind.

'What are you doing?'

'Leaving.'

'You're going to let her die?'

'Oui(yes), now go away.'

'She did nothing wrong!'

'Not yet. She could.'

'She is helpless and innocent.'

'So was Christine.'

'Not all women are Christine. Save her.'

'Why?'

'Prove yourself.'

'What? Explain.'

'Every soul believes you not but a killer. Prove them wrong. Prove to (God) that there is good in that bleak thing you call your soul.'

'If you weren't a figment of my imaginative conscience…I would have killed you for that comment.'

'Oui, I know. But you know you must prove to them, to Him, to yourself even that you are not just a murderer.'

'I have no need of such a silly show of protest.'

'Liar.'

Snarling in self-anger and frustration, Erik turned back to shed light on the woman. Eyeing her warily he pondered. What was she doing down here anyway? Heaving a heavy sigh, he shrugged his strong but wasted shoulders and set down the lantern. Damn conscience.

Unclasping his heavy cloak Erik swooped it off and came closer, stepping in the way of the light. He stood on the narrow ledge the woman sat upon. Used to walking on such slippery and little ground he walked over and kneeled down.

Gently he pried her dead-weight from the wall, almost flinching at the rigor-mortis that had seized her form. Putting the cloak over her hunched shoulders he forced her limbs to uncurl a bit, trying his hardest to be gentle. Lifting her wrapped body Erik felt a cold chill permeating from her, colder than the freezing air. How long had she been down here? If it hadn't been for the tiny gasps of air that escaped her he would have been sure he was handling a corpse. Or, if he didn't hurry, soon-to-be-corpse.


	3. Chapter 3

-1Warmth. Permeating, thick and sinking warmth that nearly boiled her in its heat. Evelyn's eyebrows knitted a bit as her mind began to focus. Warmth? Her body felt as if it was floating on soft clouds, so heavy and immovable. Her eyelids seemed to be weighted with sand, making it nearly impossible to open them. Blankets covered her to her neck, tucked about her comfortingly.

As she listened she heard the crackle and spit of a fire nearby to her right and the quiet shuffle of feet. It felt like a vice of panic gripped her heart. Had they found her? Damn! She tried to move her legs to see if she could possibly run. Damn! Still too weak

Gathering up whatever courage she had Evelyn warily cracked an eye open to a blurry scene. To the side she saw the light of a fireplace and its hulking maw. Formless shapes obscured her vision but one moved, giving her a partial heart-attack. It was a tall shadow, seeming almost like a fictional devil in the red glow as it moved to the right of the fireplace and disappeared.

Taking a deep, silent breath the woman opened her eyes completely and looked about, even though sleep clawed at her. She was in a large oak bed with dark red blankets, embroidered with long curvaceous words in Latin. To her right was a side table with a cup of water. For a moment she stared in blatant fascination at the drawers that were etched with music notes. Definitely not Laterr's taste. To her left was a stone wall, rough in a natural way but not uncared for.

A larger table with two oak chairs stood between a door and the fireplace. Underneath it were large crates, some open with spilling contents: shirts, belts, rope, the like. On the right of the fireplace was another door the shadow had disappeared into.

The walls beside the one next to her bed had worked shelves, covered with food baskets, piles of paper and other miscellaneous items. The room was rather small, no where near as big as the suites she was accustomed to. As she lay there she felt the worn folds of her wedding dress and spotted the ruined, damp slippers by the fireplace.

Where was she? Who had found her? There was no sign of Laterr's handiwork or a trace of those scum who worked for him. Hell, there wasn't even a sign of drinking or rowdiness.

The door next to the fireplace opened with a slight creak and a man came out, busily folding a white shirt, closing the door with his foot. Evelyn choked a gasp and continued to watch him silently. He was like nothing she had ever seen. It was strange; he bore no resemblance to the nobles and royalty she had grown up with and yet he didn't seem like the common workman.

The man wore dark breeches with black boots. His open vested white shirt was filthy and thin, half wet from sweat. Eve temporarily found herself staring at the muscles in his neck. As long as she could remember, men kept those tight collars where you saw naught but their chins. It was fascinating to see the cords move as he set the shirt on a shelf, still not seeing her. He had a strong chin, a bit unclean and unshaven, giving him a more haggard look. Rugged brown hair fell in his face, half swept back as he shuffled a pile of papers.

His face…a white half mask gleamed from its seat on the right side of his face, covering all but the sharp blue eye and the lips. It drew back from his somewhat smirking lips. Under thick, expressionate eyebrows were intelligent, sad blue eyes, almost gray in their color.

Quietly Evelyn swallowed, wincing when her dry throat made her cough slightly. The man looked up at her, startled to see her awake. The expression was wary, the eyes studying her for a reaction. He looked as if he expected her to scream bloody murder. To be honest she thought she might. He had the look of a beautiful but dangerous creature and (quite blatantly) he did scare her quite a bit. Instead of saying anything she took to watching him.

Erik eyed her, wondering what on earth he should do. Her eyes were terrified and…curious? The horror he could understand but the curiosity? She studied him warily, her sharp eyebrows drawn together in faint anger.

"I'm not going back," she whispered quietly, defiantly. Erik quirked an eyebrow curiously. With a sigh he sat down at the table and set his elbow on the surface. Resting his chin in his palm he smirked.

"Non(no), I imagine not. You were nearly dead when I found you. Why on earth would you go back to such frigid waters?" he replied, a tad sadistically. The woman blinked at his reply and frowned thoughtfully.

"So you aren't one of the marquis men?"

"Non, I have been no ones man."

"Oh…" she sighed, seeming to deflate somewhat in relief. Fruitlessly she struggled with her arms, trying to raise herself up. Protocol was embedded in her actions. Lying so in bed while attempting to carry on a conversation was not at all polite. Heaving a sigh she gave up. "Pardonnez-moi(pardon me), monsieur, if I do not rise. May I ask of my savior's name?"

Erik took a while in answering, watching her as he ran a hand over his chin. Hadn't she realized who he was? Well, actually it was a bit silly to think everyone in the world knew who the Phantom of the Opera was. He opened his mouth but paused. He didn't know his last name. No one had ever asked for it.

"I am…Erik."

The woman smiled weakly, her forehead beaded over in sweat.

"Just Erik?"

"Oui, just Erik," he affirmed a little stiffly. Evelyn sat there, listening to the trained timber of his deep, raw voice. It was thick, voluptuous and rich like polished gold yet tinted with cynicism and bitterness like serpentine silver. This was no common man. The way he held himself revealed so. Ever since she was little Eve had learned posture and its meanings. He sat like a man at a piano, on the verge of bursting into a triumphant aria.

"I am Evelyn de Maitrese. Are we still under the streets in the sewers?" she asked curiously, now becoming more talkative.

"Oui. You are in my home."

"Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur Erik, but why do you live down here?"

"I have my reasons," he muttered coldly, turning to focus on the fire, his blue eyes dazing as he thought. She quietly waited until he turned to look at her again, this time in an aloof manner. "Mademoiselle de Maitrese, what were you doing in the tunnels?"

Evelyn struggled again to sit up but only managed to tiredly prop herself against the headboard. She sighed darkly and stared at her limp hands, lying on the red coverlets. Her body felt as if it was burning up but she could not stop shivering.

"I was running from a marriage I did not want. Not that it helped. I'm married to the slimiest démon(monster) in Paris," she gave a snort of dervish dislike. "My father married me to him for money. Mon dieu, Its not uncommon but…"

Evelyn let her words fade to hang in the air. Erik gave her a hidden and furious look, trying hard not to be unreasonable. Was God being cruel for no reason? Why the similarities? Running from an unwanted marriage…God really hated him.

"You ran."

"Oui, I ran and I ran. They were following me from the chapel. I came upon La Rue Scribe and escaped into the sewers. After a while I became too cold and sat down," she replied a bit sleepily. She rested back, drawing in a deep breathe and letting it escape. Erik looked at her flushed cheeks and frowned.

"You are still tres(very) sick. Sleep. In a few days I shall take you to the surface. Then do faites comme vous voulez(do as you please) ," he said distantly, turning back to the table and his spread of papers. He eyed one page. It was his new birth papers. It would be stupid to go to a new country with no identification, fake or not.

Evelyn had slumped into the blankets but upon hearing his words she shot up, despite her weak limbs and trembling frame. Her wide green eyes stared in panic and lips frantically fumbling.

"I can't go there. S'il te plaît(please), do not send me back up, monsieur! Laterr has men everywhere, spies and contacts in every shop and tavern. He'll find me and I don't know what he will do," she cried pleadingly. Erik turned a curious, surprised eye on her, shocked that she could actually move so much. Maybe he should be rid of her sooner than he said.

"Mademoiselle, marriage can't possibly be that horrible. You would rather stay here in this dark festering hellhole than marry a marquis?" he asked in half-started temper, his voice rising. Deep down he knew he should calm himself but her words sparred him to anger. Were all women so stupid? Were they all so ignorant to the pain they inflict?

"To be completely honest, monsieur, oui! I would never wish to marry without love," she replied heatedly, a bit of her own indignation at his words slipping in. He might have saved her life but he had not right to get upset when he hardly knew her.

Erik stared at her darkly, his blue eyes raging in turbulent despair and his heart burning in anger. She was just like Christine! Damn it all to hell! Why did he bother saving her?!

"He does not have any aimer(love) for you? Not at all? Are you sure you are not merely rejecting a man who offers devotion?" he demanded through clenched teeth, a deep growl reverberating in his tone. Unconsciously he rose from his seat, his hands clenched into fists. He came closer, his immense aura over powering the exhausted, sickly woman.

Evelyn sank into the blankets further, almost positive that this strange madman would kill her then. The anger permeating from him caused her to shrink as far as she could from him. What on earth had she done to make him so upset? He asked and she just answered!

"S'il te plaît! You don't know how awful he is! He drains all of these poor people who work for him. He-he's sick and twisted! When he last came he-" she pleaded with him, trying to calm him and explain herself, until she caught herself. She was almost disgusted at the squeak in her voice. Opening her mouth she closed it again. Looking away from him to the wall she felt tears well slightly in her aching eyes. "You have no idea what he has done to me, Monsieur Erik. Do not judge me."

Evelyn's quiet words stilled the anger in his chest, causing him to deflate somewhat. Almost ashamed of himself for such an outburst Erik sat down in his seat, trying to quall the storm in his mind. Why was he so turbulent about this? Was this inquiry to satisfy his own questions? Was he trying to learn Christine's reasoning through a similar case?

He almost laughed at the thought of him passing judgment unto someone else. All his life he pleaded for understanding from Christine and here he was, shouting at a girl he barely knew just because she was suffering a similar trauma to his angel's. What a hypocrite.

"You said you would never marry without love. What of those other women out there who do what you refuse everyday? Is that not for their families?" Erik asked coolly, still finding her reasoning somewhat shallow. Evelyn's head snapped back to glare at him, her green eyes clearly shooting venom at him. Who did he think he was?

"Family? What family? My mother is dead, and my father is a debauched old fool who loves only prostitutes, gambling and wealth," she hissed, sitting up on her elbows, her heart raging in protest. "He sold me to a sick serpent who would kill me if it was legal. You speak of family amour? If my family held any for me at all, I would give it all for them. But if they did I would not be here, would I?"

For a good long moment Erik eyed her, measuring her words and the intense fury this sick girl was conjuring from seemly nowhere. As he thought more on the circumstance and gradually set all his own perceived ideas aside, he felt a sinking guilt weigh on him. Unable to admit it yet, he managed to mask his expressions.

"Qu'est-ce que tu en sais(what do you know)? What do you know of love, of amour?" Erik muttered bleakly, somehow finding himself hoping to hear some kind words of encouragement. He didn't deserve any; he knew he didn't but that didn't stop him from wanting. Evelyn flinched visibly upon hearing these words and turned slowly on her side, back to him, after sending a final glare of dislike at him.

"Nothing. I know nothing but a romantic fools delusion."

After that he heard nothing more from her. He smiled in a decadent way. Despite all the guilt he felt and self-chastisement for being bitter to the only person who had talked to him in over a month, he chuckled lightly. In a way, she seemed so childish, so hopeful, despite her despair. He could see it, under all those barricades of polite mannerisms and anger, she was a hopeful one.

It almost struck him as sad that those kind of strengths are eventually crushed by the weight of the world. It was a terrible reality but one she would eventually face. Evelyn was apparently a noble, royalty maybe, and perceivably was quite innocent to the cruelties many faced. It was rather sweet but very inconvenient.

For a while Erik worked on several forms, the only sounds his scratching pen, the crackling fire and Evelyn's faint breathing. The forms were of his new identification and a deed to a mansion outside Munich, Germany. It used up only an eight of the fortune he had accumulated from his occupation as the Opera Ghost from the past decade or so.

As he finished up the last form he paused and rested his chin in his palm, watching the fire dance. Why was he doing this? What was the point? Beyond defying God (which he had done all of his life), what was the point? Why did he carry on? Christine was gone, married to that simpleton. What did he really have left? He didn't even have music left. When was the last time he had sang?

A sudden groan caught his attention and he turned to watch Evelyn's sleeping form. He let out a small sigh. And what was he going to do with her? She didn't want to go up into Paris but she couldn't safely stay here with him leaving next week. Then again…did he really care? Why should he burden himself with her well-being? What kept him from sending her back out there and locking his door on her?

Taking a deep breath of desperation Erik folded his arms on the tables surface and rested his weary head upon it. Too many questions, not enough answers. With that frustrated though Erik drifted into a dreamless slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

-1A loud thud awoke Erik, sounding like a heavy bag of potatoes hitting the floor. Jumping up in his seat he drew in a breath and glanced about, trying to defog his tired mind. Evelyn was tangled up in the blankets, half hanging off the bed, her upper back lying on the floor, the rest invisible in the torrent of blankets. Her messy red curls lay spread upon the floor, framing her pale still sweaty face, the cheeks flushed in fever.

Erik stood groggily and walked over, half trying to cover his laughter at her. She cast an embarrassed, angry look at him and struggled to untangle herself from the red sheets. Instead of helping her Erik watched, a cat-like gleam in his eyes.

"Now…qu'est-ce que tu fais(what are you doing)? That can't be overly comfortable," he commented with a snide snicker. The woman frowned in frustration and glowered at him. Oh, she was still very mad at him. That's right; he needed an apology.

"Monsieur! S'il te plaît, stop laughing at me and help me out of these infernal sheets!" she exclaimed angrily, crossing her arms angrily over her chest. Erik smirked, stifling more laughter to comply easily. Slipping one hand under her shoulder he used his other to tug the sheets loose. Her body still felt warm, not as hot but definitely not at normal temperature.

Instead of letting go Erik picked her up fully, sliding a hand under her knees. She was heavier than Christine but with more ample curves. Evelyn frowned at him still but murmured a quiet 'thank you'. She was actually grateful to her fever at the moment; if the flush of sickness had not been there, he might have noticed her blush. Carrying her over to the table he pulled a chair free with his foot and set her down.

Evelyn rubbed the back of her goose-pimpled arms at the sudden loss of the warm blankets, even though her body felt heated. She didn't want to admit it but having him hold her in such a way brought back many unwanted, painful memories. Fixedly not looking at him she stared at her hands, waiting adamantly for him to say something.

"Mademoiselle, I am sorry for my earlier words," Erik apologized, having to force it from his throat. He sat down across from her, studying the etches in the tables surface. "I am not used to human company and am not accustomed to dealing with…day-to-day courtesies. S'il te plaît, I did not mean to loose my temper."

Evelyn watched him, contemplating, for a few moments before smiling. Internally she felt an invisible pen scribbling away an entry on non-existent paper, scratching away her feelings and pain. It folded up neatly into a tiny note and then was tossed to the back of her mind to fester with the rest of her hurts. It was a way to deal with almost any emotion.

"I accept your apology. And please excuse my rude curiosity yesterday. I shouldn't have pried," she returned courteously, graciously smiling and hiding all anger she might have felt before. Looking down at a sudden draft that chilled her legs she realized she was still in the filthy wedding dress. Many rips and dirt smudges adorned it now, along with the odor of sick-sweat and the sewers. She crinkled her nose in disgust. "Monsieur Erik? Do you have any spare clothes? This one is ruined and it would be improper of me to be in a man's presence in such a manner."

Erik hid a wince and nodded stiffly.

"Je m'en fous(I don't give a damn) about what is proper or not but if it would make you more comfortable then you may certainly have a change," he replied coolly. From a crate under the table he collected a slightly dusty dress. He quickly handed it to her, not wanting to look at the gown. Along with it he gave her a clean chemise and underskirt. He could not bear to feel the material at the moment. Before he had taken Christine to his lair for the first time he had agonized over the dress, trying very hard to make it beautiful. She had never worn it or even looked at it.

Evelyn held the garment out at arms length to examine it, her eyes widening in appreciation. The material was a dusty rose color, faint but pretty, a soft cotton, smooth to the touch. A darker silk ribbon tied in the back along with a row of tiny pearl buttons. It had a square cut collar that hung about the region of the bosom, embroidered with tiny rose imprints. The sleeves were short, just barely falling down the arm, loose and fluttery. The skirt had a faint bloom to the shape, hanging delicately, like the weeping branches of willow trees.

"I am afraid it was not made for a corset or any of those silly contraptions. Through that door you will find the bathroom. Use what you will. I shall find something for dinner," Erik directed distantly, pointing to the door by the fireplace then swinging on a heavy black cape that had been laying across the back of his chair.

Before Evelyn had time to thank him or even say a word he turned and left through the other door, closing it behind him. She listened to the sound of keys jangling and a lock clicking into place. For a moment she panicked, standing to attempt rushing to free herself. A wave of dizziness hit her like a club, forcing her to sit and calm herself. What would he gain from hurting her anyway?

Heaving a sigh Evelyn looked down at the dress, running her finger over the gown with faint adoration. Did he make this? It was so lovely, so lively and unique; she was almost afraid she was not good enough for it. No, she knew she wasn't.

Weakly standing Evelyn forced herself to walk toward the bathroom, determinedly shaking the intruding darkness of a wobbly faint. Suddenly she caught the scent of herself and crinkled her nose. Mon dieu, she needed a bath!

Pushing the door open with a little effort she breathed in a smell she had never encountered before. The room smelled of sweat and a rich, exotic cologne that seemed to permeate the very air she breathed. She could taste it on her tongue, a seductive flavor that seemed to come from some world beyond anything she had ever imagined.

What on earth was this smell? Why had she never known of it, this smell of sandalwood and cinnamon? Evelyn took it all in with a deep breath and sighed, embarrassed at the slight tingle it produced on her skin and in her belly. Louis never…

Stepping into the room more firmly she forced her foggy mind to focus on her surroundings, despite the heady aroma. A washbasin stood at her right, supporting a medium sized mirror. Clear water stood still in the porcelain oversized tub with tendrils or steam rising up and dancing in the cool air.

Off to the far end of the tiny room stood a screen, shielding off the lavatory. Next to the bathtub sat a wooden basket, filled with bottles of oils and soaps. Evelyn closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she took in her surroundings.

Timid Erik would return, she ran her palms along the tattered folds of her dirty dress. For a moment she fumbled with the clasps in the back, trying to twist her arms behind her. With a successful cry she slid the gown off, letting it pool about her slipper-clad feet. Supporting herself on the basin she peeled off her ruined shoes, tossing them to the side of the door. After about five minutes of struggling she relieved herself of the corset her wedding gown had forced her to suffer.

With weak legs Evelyn went over to the tub, clasping the cold sides, damp with perspiration and steam. Shakily she lifted a leg and slid the foot into the hot, scorching water. Letting a hiss escape her lips she stepped in completely, relishing the heated heaven. Sinking down she found the tub deep enough to allow the water to rise above her breasts.

The water turned her skin a fresh pink color compared to the dry, pale flesh that was still untouched. Sleepily she pulled out the loose pins in her matted curls, tossing them to the ground. Resting back she sighed, letting her green eyes slide closed. When her hair touched the water it floated easily about her.

Staring up at the steam wisps Evelyn dazed, trying hard not to sleep. Her mind whirled back to the last few days and she felt sudden tears sting her eyes. What was she to do? Father would send her back to Laterr, so would the servants and so called friends she once knew. They were all greedy bastards.

Who could she trust? She had no money, no home and now was wanted by the most powerful marquis in France. The only person she had trusted was gone. Surprisingly, the first thing to pop into her mind was Erik. She frowned slightly, pondering that. As she thought about him, the more she wanted to know who he was and why he was down here. He saved her; why she didn't know. There was nothing she had to offer. There was no profit. And yet he rescued her without expecting anything.

Heaving a frustrated breath Evelyn dunked herself under the water. Oh, bother and damnation!


	5. Chapter 5

-1Forty-five minutes later Erik waited at the table, toying with a crust of bread, tapping his foot impatiently. Laid out before him was an array of breads (slightly stale), fruits (a little over ripe) and a couple of boiled eggs (hopefully still edible). Damn, he wished he had a proper tea or something healthy for her. A bottle of red wine he had taken from the Opera cellars towered over it all, accompanied by two glasses.

Pondering his next move he sat listening to her move about in the bathroom, humming quietly. It was strange to hear music of any kind anymore. Since Christine had left he had cut himself off completely from anything with a tune or even a sweet melody. And now Evelyn's voice drifted to his ears, tantalizing him, making him want to tune the wrong chords in her voice and teach her right.

Erik completely stopped fumbling with his abused food when she actually began to sing. Her voice wasn't extraordinarily good but it wasn't horrid either. It had a deeper, sadder sound than the high, silvery tune that Christine carried. It was quite different but he found it tolerable. Despite the longing in his heart for music he growled, trying to force the want away.

"Dare we sing of lighter times

When so much pain is alive?

Yet if we don't what is there

But dark clouds of despair?"

Evelyn's voice stopped abruptly and he heard the door knob turning slowly. He straightened his agitated posture and waited. The door opened and Evelyn stepped out, her green eyes trained on the ground, her breathing harsh from the heavy steam that poured out after her.

The mess of hair was now washed and smoothed, the runaway hairs now joined with the rest. It lay in soft curls, a spiced red in the firelight. Her form wasn't all that small but it bore ample curves despite her medium height. Erik was surprised he had not noticed her shape before. The dress, luckily, wasn't too small but the hem of the dress lifted to her knees instead of her shins and the bosom hugged more closely than it was intended to do.

Erik found himself watching her too intently as she quietly walked over and sat across from him. He studied the sway of her hips that begged to be held and her come-hither shoulders. The faint pink blush that danced over her cheeks fascinated him temporarily, the way it contrasted with her long, curling lashes from her downcast eyes.

Along with her came the intoxicating smell of sweet vanilla and warm honey. The lotions and oils he had left for Christine were mainly unused. Erik almost expected her to use the rose or lavender, like most females. Sometimes he wondered if the meaning of roses was dragged out too much nowadays.

"Merci(thank you) again, Monsieur. I shall find a way to repay your kindness," Evelyn murmured, wringing her hands in her lap, painfully aware of how he stared at her.

It scared her how his pale eyes studied her carefully, making her feel so vulnerable to his examination. Now that she put aside her fears for her life she realized she had more feminine terrors of this powerful man. His very presence terrified and sparked her curiosity. She felt too tall, too clumsy and ugly.

"Non(no), I would have thrown away the gown anyway," he replied distractedly, with a dismissive wave of the hand. Evelyn spotted the movement and flinched slightly, startled. Erik felt a twinge in his heart but ignored it. The reaction didn't mean anything. He noted the hot flush on her cheeks and the slight sweat on her brow. Standing up slightly he leaned over the table and reached a hand out. The woman started but held still, forcing her face to be placid. Erik frowned in anger and placed the back of his hand against her forehead.

Now she was afraid. He could tell after spending years upon years seeing only terror in peoples eyes. When he thought back upon the night before when he had seen her curiosity he realized he had actually hoped she wouldn't fear him. How stupid was he? Give her time to settle and let the horror seep in.

"Mademoiselle, you are still quite warm. Eat something while I prepare some medicine," he ordered gently, hoping keep his temper under a façade of coolness. She nodded obediently and picked up an egg, shelling it.

Demurely nibbling on the soft, white food she kept her eyes on the table. Erik stood up and went to a shelf, turning slightly so only his white mask was shown. Only then did she look up to watch him. Despite herself she stared at the mask as he retrieved a mortar and pestle and an assortment of dried herbs. Silently he ground the plants into a mesh.

Scraping the mix of herbs into a holed spoon meant for brewing, Erik felt a bubbling anger rise in him, vividly aware of Evelyn's innocent staring. Using a spoke he hung a black kettle over the fire, careful not to burn himself. Silently he settled down and grabbed a green apple. Biting into it he stared directly at her, challenging her to look into his eyes, face to face. She glanced away, unable to look at him for too long.

"Why can't you look at me?" Erik demanded in a gravelly whisper, his voice rough with vile anger. He glared at her venomously when she finally looked at him timidly. Her sea green eyes were worried and scared, spurring him on to growl.

"Is it my face? Can you not bear to look at it even with my mask on? Am I that hideous?" he shouted, his voice rising and his temper growing rapidly. He stood quickly, slamming an open hand on the table, causing several fruits to roll off. "Perhaps you'd want to see what is under it?!"

Evelyn brought her lips up to her lips, covering a horrified gasp. She trembled at his tremendous rage. Again he seemed to have reduced her to a pathetic, quivering girl with just a mere yell. It troubled her that she reacted in such a way, but not so much as the terror of the fact she provoked him.

"I am dreadfully sorry, monsieur! I had not meant to- I never wanted to upset you! Its just that you have been so kind to me and I hate myself for feeling so curious. Its not my place. S'excuser(excuse me)!" she cried out, trying very hard to keep her voice from quaking and revealing her utter shock. "I am not a strong person and I feel so very lost. You seem so powerful and strange to me. I never really had the chance to meet people. Excuse my prodding, monsieur."

"Curious?" he murmured, attempting to placate himself. Erik sat back down, studying her green, pleading eyes for deception. The poor girl seemed on the verge of tears and faints. He calmed down considerably quick this time, eyeing her dangerously. Again he berated himself for loosing his temper so easily.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"What? I'm turning twenty in three weeks," she replied, startled.

"Still a babe. I am sorry for frightening you again. Pardonnez(pardon) my temper but I am very sensitive to stares or the lack of it."

"I had not meant to anger you."

"Do you wish to see it? See my face?" Erik asked lowly, testing her cockiness. His gaze was softer and sadder and his tone calmer. He was attempting to play amiable again but found his talent in it lacking. Evelyn lowered her hands and folded them in her lap. She thought quietly for a few minutes. Now that he had calmed down, she rationalized her thinking and shook her head slowly.

"Non, I do not unless you want to reveal yourself. I have no right to ask it of you," she answered softly, a reassuring smile tugging her lips. Erik stared in honest disbelief before almost laughing in surprise. He gave her a rare smile and felt his previous anger melting.

"Perhaps one day you shall see what I am," he said, trying to sound gentle again. It was strange how her assurance of respecting his secrecy soothed his suspicions. He was afraid of it happening but it didn't seem as if he could stop it.

A loud whistle resounded from the fireplace along with the hiss and spit of water landing on fire. Standing gracefully Erik used a cloth to draw out the kettle. Retrieving a cup her poured the steaming water into it, splashing a little on himself and scalding the skin.

"Drink this once its had time to cool," he directed, putting the herb-laden spoon into the water and stirring it lightly. A thin brown oozed out from the spoon, darkening and hazing the water. Setting it before her he checked her temperature again. This time she didn't move away or appear the least bit frightened. A tad bit nervous at being close to him but no more immediate terror. He was almost proud at her ability to conquer a fear.

"Hopefully your fever will have dissipated by tomorrow. By then you should be well enough to leave. Quite frankly I am amazed at how quickly you are healing," Erik said as he sat again. Evelyn had grabbed a pear and paused in her chewing. She dazed thoughtfully into the fire.

"Leave? Where to, I wonder? Paris is no longer safe for me. I really have no home beyond what I have run from," she mused, turning her food over in her hands.

"I can acquire you a couch but I highly doubt you'll return to your father after hearing your previous words."

"My father. I really hate him, you know. But I suppose I can go to my grandmothers home. She doesn't really know me but as her blood she can't really turn me away. Thankfully she has not the faintest idea of this whole Laterr business," she stated bitterly, a plan formulating in her mind. Erik nodded in agreement, glad that she did have somewhere to go.

"Where is the Madam's home?"

"Venice. Or at least that was the last place I heard she was."

"I'll set you on a train then. Tomorrow I'll get the ticket along with my own."

"Where are you going? I thought this was you home?"

For a good long while Erik studied her fiercely, chasing suspicion and hope about his tired mind. As much as he was afraid to reveal himself anymore to anyone ever again, he felt such a desire to tell someone. His heart felt about to burst with all the pain he had stifled in his body. It drove him mad and absolutely insane. Finally he came to the conclusion that if she was to leave anyway, it could not hurt to tell her the basic story.

Slowly he told her his story, the very blunt and formal version. He was wary to put in any close ties to his feelings but accidentally let slip more than once. Several times he had to stop and collect himself to prevent explosions of anger. Evelyn sat quietly though out it, not interrupting or asking questions. A couple of time he looked up to find her eyes welled with tears of anger or sadness.

It took a full two hours to explain his life from birth to then and all the pains in between. He found that once he started going he couldn't stop. It worried him but he felt the need to speak far greater.

When he finally finished, a dead weight of apprehension hung in the air. Erik watched her for any sort of reaction. He expected disgust, hate or even disappointment. He half-waited for her to ask to see his face now that she knew what lie underneath the mask. Inside his chest he felt a hard, heavy lump that seemed to restrict, sending out waves of vile despair at him.

To his surprise and utter shock Evelyn showed no signs of any distaste. Her eyes were watery but shone with the utmost sadness and pity. Her lower lip trembled and she swallowed several times. All her life she grew up sheltered. She never expected to see that such inhumane horror could exist in the world.

Evelyn hardly knew him at all and yet all that she felt was an extreme want to comfort him. This feeling had not stirred in her since the death. Neither had the anger at the world that now burned in her.

Standing up shakily she came around the table to stand in front of Erik, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was trembling horribly and choking on tears. They surprised him as they began to slide down her cheeks, unabashedly. He looked up at her in shock and misery, his heart heavy from the remembrances he had been vainly trying to conquer.

"D-Dear Erik, I am so sorry. That should never have ha-…you deserve so much more. I wish I could…I am so sorry," she whispered, her throat constricting her from complete sentences. Her voice caught and hitched with her strained breathing. Erik blinked in surprised at her sadness, completely caught off guard. This was the last thing he had expected: compassion from an utter stranger.

"What?" he croaked in disbelief. Half of him could not believe this. This had to be some cruel joke on him that she and God were playing. The other half screamed in agony at this innocent statement. "Why do you care?"

"I-I don't know. I've never really…M-may I…?" she stopped, unable to speak anymore. Timidly she held her arms open, waiting for a response. Erik watched her, sad and weary, thinking frantically. He wanted to shove her away, shun all supposed compassion but at the same time he wanted to plunge into it even if it was just a lie.

Finally he nodded. Hesitantly Evelyn came closer, her knees nearly touching his legs. Slowly she put her arms about his neck and embraced his head shyly against her. After an awkward moment Erik slid his arms about her waist and held her tightly to him, desperate for the contact and warmth. He never truly held Christine without it being an act or a role. To be honest he doubted she ever would have embraced him.

Erik inhaled deeply her sweet scent as she ran her chaste and curious fingers through his thick brown hair and massaged his scalp comfortingly. He felt her heart next to his ear, thundering quickly. Her skin that managed to touch his unmasked cheek was boiling in heat. Her whole body trembled in his grasp, making him feel somehow stronger. Somehow her dress didn't seem to bother him anymore. Hell, he didn't even care about it anymore.

"Ma dear Erik," she repeated, her tears flowing freely and splashing on his face, streaming under his mask. She muttered his name like a mantra. Her hand brushed over from playing in his hair to his face and he froze, suddenly wary again of her tearing off his mask. It was a common scenario to him but it hurt him deeply when someone did. Instead of going near his mask her fingers caressed his uncovered cheek and eyebrow, soothing the tense muscles. She made no move toward his mask so he relaxed, enjoying her soft sentiment.

Evelyn shivered at the feeling of power of the man as he held her tightly, crushing her to him in desperation. It thrilled her that she could comfort him so didn't mind the slight pain that stung her chest. As she breathed in his smell she came to realize that it matched the one that had captured her so in the bathroom. A spike of electricity ran down to her belly and she stifled a sigh by nestling her face into his hair.

Holding a man was harder than Evelyn thought it would be. Her own soul cried in terror at this intimate hold yet it pleaded all the same for it. Every fiber of her was desperate for the touch but her mind was in a state of utter fear. She had held only one man in love and only once in horror. At the moment she couldn't decide which she felt right then except the unbearable urge to comfort.

To his despair Erik felt his own eyes tearing and swelling with water as he considered what lay in his grasp. This young, trusting girl so willingly let him embrace her and comforted him. Why? He didn't know. He really didn't want to think about it. Heaving a shuddering breath Erik tightened his grip and buried his face next to her pounding heart. It seemed weak and faltering, struggling to continue on.

Erik was no doctor but he knew that the irregular and erratic beating was not as well as it should. Somehow he knew it was not from their intimate embrace either.

"Musique dansantea(music you can dance to). But why is your heart so faint?" Erik asked in concern, lifting his head from its rest to look at her. Evelyn smiled softly at him, her watery eyes extraordinarily sad. She seemed pained to no end by his question but not at all angry.

"I am a very weak and sick person, Erik. When I was young our physician told my parents I suffered from a malignant heart disease. My only wish is to spend what short life I have well," she replied tiredly, her fingers skimming his brow, brushing loose strands off hair from his face. "Do not worry about that. You cannot understand how much you have helped me. I wish there was a way I could repay you."

"You have. More than you can understand," he answered softly, coming upon the revelation as he said it. He considered the young woman he held he felt a surge of pity and sympathy. He suddenly felt as if he was holding her too tightly and loosened his grip, afraid to hurt her. Almost immediately Evelyn clutched him against her again.

"Non, s'il te plaît ? I have never held someone since mother died," she pleaded, trembling weakly. He complied gently, his brow creased slightly. The more he knew about this woman the more he wanted to help soothe her troubles.

Erik felt a compassion for her, the lost noble and innocent child. A natural urge to protect was there as well, of course. But also a curiosity burned him like a hot torch; curiosity to know why such a person could care about him and what would come of her care.

As much as he felt his own conscience cheering him on he felt the cynical voice biting at him. Hadn't he learned? Hadn't he discovered that helping others only caused more pain? Was he to let her get close enough to leave an even bigger gash in his already bleeding heart than Christine had left? He was an idiot and a fool to let her get close to him.

Forcefully but gently Erik pushed Evelyn out to arms length and closed his eyes, trying to control the rampant collage of thoughts and emotions that battered his brain. He heard her faint, confused breathing and felt her hands weakly clasping the ones on her shoulders. Painting a kind look upon his face he opened his eyes and opened his eyes to look into her face.

"You should finish your medicine and rest, Mademoiselle Evelyn. With such a lacking constitution you should be wary of stress," he explained softly, letting his hands fall from her shoulders. Evelyn studied him with shocked and confused eyes. Giving him a nod she went to her cup and gulped down the cold drink, hiding a wince at the bitter taste.

"Where do you sleep?" she asked suddenly, turning to look at him. Erik gave her a startled look.

"Here in the chair, mademoiselle."

"Monsieur? Please just call me Evelyn. I am not a noble, not anymore."

"Comme vous voudrez(as you wish). Then I am only Erik."

"Oui, ma Erik."


	6. Chapter 6

-1

When Evelyn opened her eyes next she found herself alone. She sat up slowly, finding her arms quaking but much stronger. Brushing hair from her face she looked about, trying to find Erik. The fire had gone out, leaving the room chilly and dark. The bathroom door was cracked open, a long strand of light cutting through the thick dark like a knife, spilling over the end of her bed and the wall.

Her body felt much cooler, the sickly heat pretty much dissipated, replaced by a shivery cold. The small clock on the mantle piece showed the time to be about five in the morning or night, she couldn't tell. The glass face reflected the white light from the bathroom, sending a projected orb of light to the wall opposite. From the bathroom she heard running water and slight splashing.

Swinging her deadened legs over the side Evelyn forced herself up despite her slight headache. Sluggishly she walked quietly toward the cracked door, rubbing her eyes free of sleep. When she lowered her hands she had to plaster them to her mouth to choke a cry. Through the opening she gazed upon a sight she never dreamed she would ever witness again.

Erik stood before the mirror that stood above the water basin which steamed in hot water. The glass was fogged over except for the swipe mark he had rubbed off. He was splashing water up into his face, vigorously scrubbing at it. The thick hair appeared almost black as it hung about his shoulders and clung to his neck, making water drip and stream down his body. He wore no shirt, revealing a strong back with muscles that shined in the light, gleaming in the clear water, accenting the curves and cords. Running down and across his back were long, white, raised scars, crisscrossing and marring his skin. From the gypsies, she knew and felt a bitter taste hit in her mouth. They moved gracefully and powerfully as he cleaned his face.

Evelyn nearly gasped when she realized that Erik did not have his mask on. The object lay discarded on the floor, along with his rumpled shirt. Part of her wanted to peer closer and see what he had hidden from her. The other part won over however, screaming at her that she had promised she would not steal such a pain from him.

She knew it was wrong to stare in such a way at a half clothed man, she knew it was a sin but she could not look away. Erik put a towel to his hair and roughly drying it, causing the muscles in his shoulders to ripple more. Every one of his movement sent wafts of his seductive cologne towards her, drowning her in its masculinity.

A panging struck her gut, a feeling that hit her only with the scent he carried. What was this? Why did she feel so odd? She felt mesmerized and light headed, like she was going to float into nothing. Maybe it was just because she was sick.

Erik suddenly turned towards the tub, away from her, walking out of the line of her sight. She felt a jump in her midriff when she heard his bare feet on the stone approaching her. Terrified of being caught in such a way Evelyn turned and took a flying leap at the bed. Shuffling quickly under the blankets she was quietly amazed she could jump like that.

Flinging the blankets over her head she lied still. Evelyn tried to calm her quickened breath as she listened to the door swing open. She listened as he walked out, carrying the sound of rustling clothing. A moment of silence frightened her, where she heard naught but her uneven breathing.

The sound of more approaching footsteps forced her to slam her eyes shut and her face to take on the appearance of sleep. Or at least that is what she hoped it looked like. Weight sank down at the spot near her hips, causing her body to tilt in the direction. The blankets were lifted from her face and cool air brushed her skin. She could smell his captivating cologne and had to stifle a sigh. Breathing in deeply she shifted as if she was just being disturbed in her sleep.

With utmost discomfort she felt as if her body was being examined through the heavy, red blankets. To her horror she suddenly realized that when she had jumped into bed the folds of her dress had bunched about her upper thighs. Evelyn nearly screamed in surprise when a cool hand was laid on her forehead, followed by a low, thoughtful 'hmm'.

Erik grasped the blankets hem and began to pull the blankets further off her. The woman restrained the urge to cry out and pull the folds back over her head. Slowly the blankets came off to the knees. A very strange quiet ensued but the blankets had not yet been replaced.

A faint blush painted her cheeks, relieved only when he finally placed just the sheets over her, covering her to her chest line.

"Still too hot," Erik muttered quietly to himself. She felt the bed shift forward as if he was leaning forward. Warm breath played over the sensitive skin of her face, blowing across her, making her shudder and heat up. This was not happening! This could not be happening. She wanted to scream in terror at the thought of a kiss but her heart denied the wish with its own longing for that very thing.

Evelyn's heart leaped into her throat when she felt warm, soft lips upon her brow, gently and shyly placing a kiss to her flesh. She nearly cried when he lifted them away, leaving a hot brand in her memory. She had only received a kiss from Louis, no one else. Beyond that she had never received a kiss from a man beyond a congenial peck on the back of her hand.

The weight lifted as Erik stood and moved away in the direction of the table. She heard him sit down and begin to write away quickly, pausing once in a while to move a paper.

Evelyn lay quite still, fighting in her mind for some clarity in the large jumble of emotions. Part of her felt a warmth for Erik, a want to help and comfort. God knew he deserved it after everything that had happened. Another piece of her hurting heart still loved him, even though he was gone, banishing thoughts of any sort of connection. It felt like her duty to never allow an accident like that to befall anyone again.

The last piece was no clear thought; it was pure emotion. Pure terror and unrestrained fear. The feeling of skin, the bliss of touch sent shocks of horror through her nerves, begging for her to run away, to get away from one who could bring pain. Evelyn still had not determined if it was a psychological or physical fear.

After struggling and grappling with her inner demons for a good few minutes she gave up for the moment. Stirring as if waking, she faked a yawn and stretched, cat-like. Rubbing her eyes Evelyn looked over toward where she believed Erik to be. He finished a sentence and looked up, an awkward smile on him from under his mask.

"Good morning," he greeted lightly, trying to mask his nervousness. When he had awoken he instantly began to mull over her reaction to him now that she'd have enough time to think. Would she feel different than last night? As far as he could tell, women changed their minds like the wind.

Along with that disturbing thought came an overwhelming embarrassment. To see her lying in bed sleeping had stirred him as it had with Christine when she had fainted. He felt like some emotional whore, being able to feel that way after only a month of solitude. As much as he hated that idea he could not resist the urge to kiss her, if only just once.

Erik had been kissed only once and that by Christine as a trigger to release her boy. When he kissed Evelyn's forehead he felt relief that she did not die. He had never initiated a kiss and had a childish fear for some sort of reprimands from God. Great gratitude rushed over him when he watched her as she slept; gratitude and thanks for the compassion she lent to him, a monster.

He focused on her when Evelyn sat up on her elbows and blew a strand of runaway hair from her face.

"Is it?"

"Is it what?"

"Is it morning? I can't really tell down here," she repeated languidly, stretching her toes under the blankets. Erik watched the cover move in fascination for a moment before shrugging distractedly.

"After a while you get a sense of time rather than light. You should get cleaned up. We are heading up for tickets in an hour," he directed somewhat stiffly as he forced himself to turn and focus on his papers. He straightened them neatly, turning to cast her a look once or twice as she swung the covers off and slid her legs to the floor.

"We? I am going up with you?" she asked excitedly as she came to sit across from him, fixing the folds of her dress. Erik looked up at her and smirked wryly.

"Would you like to stay down here and stare at the wall?"

"Non, non I wouldn't," Evelyn huffed, running a hand through her tangled red hair, trying to bring some order out of the chaos.

"Good. Eat something. You need more vitamins in your system," he explained, grabbing the bottle of wine and a cup. Evelyn complied, nibbling on a piece of raisin bread quietly. After he finished a single drink Erik made her one more dose of medicine and then disappeared again into the bathroom, claiming to need to finish dressing.

A/N: In response to the first few reviews (which I am incredibly grateful for) I understand my mistakes in the French language. Please, I am going off an internet translator and I've never taken classes. Keep up the corrections however, it'll help me in other stories. Also, I am not overly informed on the governmental system of France. I'm just trying to build a plot, a pathetic one, but a plot. Thanks for the corrections again.


	7. Chapter 7

-1"I shall give you some money to buy better foods and clothes while I retrieve the tickets," Erik said, locking the heavy door with a large key. They stood outside the room in one of the tunnels, the torchlight Evelyn held being the only source of light. The sound of water brought chills up her spine and the clanking of the keys grated her nerves.

Huddling as close as she could to the flame without catching fire, she looked over the man in surprise. Ever since she had met him he had always looked scruffy and tired, formidable but not in anyway outward about it. Now he had his hair slicked back and face cleaned thoroughly, making him seem much more stern and stiff in a gentlemanly way. His clothes were dark and formal, as if he was heading to a play instead of an errand. Atop his head was a fedora, pulled low over the right side of his face, hiding his mask mostly. A deep red vest was half covered by a evening jacket and over that a heavy winter coat. He wore black breeches with normal ebony shoes.

Evelyn frowned as she watched him tuck away his ring of keys and settle his cloak about himself. She didn't like the way he looked. Infinitely intelligent and seductive, yes, but hidden and icy, nothing like how he really was. Now he almost looked like every man she had ever seen and the sight didn't suit her stomach well. Erik was not the others, not even remotely like them.

She smiled up at him when Erik came up to her, taking the torch. He grabbed her hand with his leather gloved one and that made them both freeze. She stared at him with wide eyes and him with amazement at his own bold actions. Regretfully he loosened his hold, ready to pull away. Evelyn put a stop to that by squeezing his hand and smiling again.

"Which way?" she asked sweetly, trying to hide her surprise and attempting to allow him access to more physical touch. He seemed to need it as desperately as she feared it but she refused to let him suffer because of her problem.

After a minute of watching her Erik began leading the way with the torch, holding her hand tightly. She followed closely, listening to the sound of their echoing feet. Next to them was a wide stretch of slowly rushing water, dark and foreboding. The tunnels were as cold as before but somehow it was not as bad now that she was dry and clothed properly. The dark frightened her still. It had when she first arrived in the sewers but then sheer desperation had forced her to continue on.

The man almost winced at how tiny and fragile her hand felt in his large grasp. Ever since he had learned of her ailment and weakening health he contained a wariness of handling her and of the surroundings. He could feel her tremble behind him and could actually hear her head turning as she tried to see in the dim gloom that seemed to grab at her.

"You should not fear the darkness. The nuit(night) is a tender heart," Erik whispered soothingly, stopping to pull her to level with him. Evelyn looked up at him in embarrassment and smiled nervously. "The dark embraces, it protects and loves."

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze he watched her reactions carefully as he knelt next to the edge of the water. Evelyn gripped his hand hard, her eyes widened in a plead and terror. Erik softened his gaze and smiled gently.

"Non, don't worry. I am right here, nothing will harm you. You must learn that there is absolutely nothing to fear," he continued lowly, his voice deepened in an effort to enchant her into peace. Apparently it worked for some of the fear that had glazed her eyes faded and her grip fell away to almost nonexistent. Finally he dunked the torch into the water, the flame spluttering out with an angry hiss, submerging them in darkness.

Erik heard her draw in a sharp breath as he stood easily, his clever eyes adjusting to the loss of immediate sight. He heard her shallow, shaky breathing and felt her hand leave his to clutch his arm tightly. Despite himself he grinned, somehow feeling better that she would hold him so for protection.

"Erik…" she whispered faintly. Through her touch Erik could feel her shiver. Suddenly he realized that maybe Evelyn was too cold. She wore one of his red cloaks but the rose colored dress left her open to the chilly cold at the arms and legs. After a moment of contemplation he finally did something about it.

Pulling his arm free he relished her whimper before he placed it about her small shoulders and tugged her under his arm and cloak. Erik felt her shudder before tucking herself closer to him, into the warmth of his body. Again a masculine pride washed over him as he felt her rely on him for guidance. Perhaps it was an old habit to feel needed, but it did not bother him much. It would not bring any emotional hurt to him, no matter the outcome.

As they walked forward they heard only their echoing footsteps and the rushing water. Erik could see well enough due to a dim, eerie silver light that reflected off the waves. It came from the faraway entrance he was heading toward, providing a faint glow that he wasn't sure Evelyn could see.

Under his arm Erik felt her glancing about, uncomfortable and wary. He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly and looked down at her as she glanced up at him. Very softly he began to sing. It caught him by surprise as the first words of Music of the Night began to slip roughly through his lips. For a full month he had diligently shunned any music or release and yet it came so easily as a method to soothe another.

When he thought about it Erik really doubted he could have held off from it anyway. Music was a part of him, no matter how painful it was. He was doomed to it so why fight the inevitable? It bothered him a little that he could readily except the revelation instead of trudging against it like he expected.

Steadily he eased his voice and tuned it, brining it to something like it had been to a lesser degree. He was a bit afraid to let it loose like he wanted but the tiny reprieve was enough.

Evelyn walked more firmly, shaking less and feeling her heart quiet. His rich, deep voice calmed her ruffled nerves and brought her to some sort of meditative peace. The soft, seductive words dazed her as it echoed about them, tickling her ears. It wove about her in a warm and almost scorching layer of fog, permeating her mind and body completely, causing her to tingle again. Remaining huddled against him she was glad the dark could hide her blush.

With the song came a sedative to her fears. She found herself less afraid of letting him touch her. Erik continued his song, letting it reverberate lowly off the wet stone walls and many tunnels as they continued steadily upwards toward the surface. He stopped abruptly when they turned a corner to find a bright doorway of cold daylight far ahead.

Evelyn let a sigh of slight relief escape her and a smile grow on her face. She hated to admit it but she missed the light. Erik merely felt resignation and pulled his fedora over his face more, drawing up the collar.

Blinking blearily at the sudden intrusion of light they stepped out into the street, Erik letting his arm fall from her shoulder. The streets were utterly abandoned and covered in a fresh powder of snow. Only a few lines of carriages marred the floor and no footprints. Light feather flakes drifted easily from an iron suited sky. There was no wind, luckily and blessedly. It was quiet, as only Paris can be in the depths of winter.

They walked in silence to the train station which stood only a mile or more to the south. It stood in a cal-du-sac of stores, the back of it revealing the metal tracks and steaming engines, ready for departures and arrivals like huffing dragons.

"Meet me here in three hours. After that I shall have to come looking for you," he warned, giving her hand a farewell kiss. With a small smile he paused. "Don't go too far."

Evelyn nodded just before he whirled on his heel toward the station, his dark cape floating behind him like an ominous cloud. She shivered, missing the powerful and protective warmth he had. It bothered her that she should miss his presence to easily but she fought to not think about it. Clutching her red cape about her she glanced about the quiet street for her first stop.

Thank you for your help. I would be delighted if you would post my mistakes to me or email them to me. I'm sorry to say that at the moment, I have little time to go through and correct all of them. I will save the corrections you send, however, and use them in later, unmade chapters and/or stories. my email, if it is not posted somewhere in this jumble, is 


	8. Chapter 8

-1"The train leaves next Monday at noon for Venice and the one for Munich leaves the day after at four," Monsieur Remeir said, reading off the tickets before handing them in a resigned, bored manner to Erik. The station smelt of the sweat and perfume of hundreds of people long past and cleaning stringent, over-coating the stench of burning coal from the trains.

Erik had worked with the young man before for transporting furniture from many different countries. Even so the lad still eyed his mysterious cover on his face and furtive outfit. Remeir was a thin, straggly boy, just barely a man without a beard. Despite his physical disadvantages and monotone voice, Erik found him polite enough and cooperate enough.

Erik nodded in thanks and shook his hand firmly. It had taken nearly two hours to get the tickets, a private booth on each train and awaiting carriages. Thankfully, it was over and he no longer had to withstand the stench of the station. He'd rather inhale mold.

Taking in a breath of cold air Erik stepped out into the wintry chill and glanced about. He really did not expect to see her yet; she was a woman and women took forever to shop. Right? Eh, he'd never know anyway.

As he stood there, his feet beginning to get cold in the snow, Erik let his mind drift, remembering the last time he was out in the snow. It had been at the cemetery where he had again tried to tempt Christine. He almost laughed at himself now as he thought back on how fully he loved her.

Surprisingly, the thoughts of his former angel hurt him far less now that what he thought it would. She didn't love him, that was that. Why should he continue to love her after all that torture she put him through? Christine called him twisted and deformed in the soul, cried out in hate towards him. What's the point of loving someone who loathed your very existence?

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a prosperous building with wide windows revealing glittering jewels to the gray light. For a few minutes he pondered then shrugged.


	9. Chapter 9

-1"Merci, monsieur."

"Farewell, mademoiselle."

Evelyn fumbled with her many bags, trying to lace her now gloved fingers through all the hand holes. The leather was a worn, soft kind, almost feeling like suede, a deep red in color and reaching only her wrists. With the money Erik had given her she had just bought a fresh supply of bread, jams, pastries, fruits, tea and a sealed package of meat. Along with that were three new dresses, a pair of shoes and a small gift she kept tucked away in a pocket of her gown.

With help from an entering woman she left the grocery outside, shivering a little in the snow. Tiny snowflakes drifted lazily down from the sky, swirling in a twisting descent. The streets were mainly abandoned except for a few people, most maids or older women out on business or errands.

The fear of being out in the open hit her only a little. She doubted any of these common and nice seeming folk would be working for Laterr. What would motivate an old woman or a little girl to tell the marquis of her location?

Wandering slowly by little shops somewhere near the train station Evelyn paused when she met the heavenly smell of teas, sweets and coffees. Giving a quick glance at the clock that gleamed in a nearby window she decided she had plenty or time and left over money for a quick snack.

Following her nose and grumbling stomach she thanked her stars that she seemed to have gotten over the near pneumonia that could have killed her. Thanks to him, she reminded herself thoughtfully. Finally she turned a corner, further away from the destined meeting place, and found the tiny café, tucked between a tailors shop and a food market.

Opening the door with her foot Evelyn walked head on into a blast of warmth and a great savory smell. The walls were of a lovely parchment color, pale and orange-tainted like old paper, painted with borders of dark evergreen ivy vines and pink roses. Small tables, each with a pair of iron-wrought black chairs, scattered the tiny room, filled with few people, all chatting quietly.

Setting her bags down by a table near the window, Evelyn smoothed the folds of her dress and went up to the counter, smiling congenially to the keeper. A display revealed freshly baked pastries with sweet preserves and powdered sugar sprinkled on the flaky surfaces. An array of delectable cookies and cake slices also wafted their enticing smell from behind the glass with their own special magic. Ever since she was little Evelyn always loved sweets. It was a great downfall but she really wasn't afraid to admit it.

A moment later she sat down with a cup of hot honey-sweetened milk and a soft scone with blackberry filling. Silently she peeled off her gloves, relishing the feel of the hot cup in her palm and the freedom from the clothing. Nibbling on her scone she dazed out the window at the snow as it danced down, rapidly becoming heavier, listening to the low murmur of the other patrons.

Sipping her milk Evelyn sighed heavily, feeling her eyes soften and her brows knit in worry. Poor Erik. Every time she thought of the cruelties he suffered she felt tears swell in her. It was so unfair, so awful. She couldn't understand how anyone could do anything so horrid to such a young boy. And to such a sad man. In sudden desperation she wanted to hold him again, protect him with her dying, frail body.

Self-consciously Evelyn looked down at her body. It might be slowly failing and very weak but it was no where near thin. She wasn't fat or big boned, but then again she was not slender or graceful either. She rued the baby fat that still clung to her legs, hips and belly. Come to think of it her wrists were a little too pudgy…so were her elbows! It surprised her that she never noticed her imperfections before.

Heaving a sigh of self-disappointment she looked back outside. Again her eyes filled with water as she watched the snow. To be honest Evelyn really hated the snow. It was pretty and enchanting but it brought up so many thoughts of Louis. Satin gloves, sleigh rides and chilled breaths that danced on the wind, mingling together before slipping to heaven.

What was she doing? What if she just made the same mistake again? Could her heart take it? Erik didn't deserve it either; he deserved so much more than a hole in the sewers and the drudge he held on his weary shoulders. Perhaps it would be better for her just to leave before something happened.

Taking a gulp of her drink Evelyn forced her tears away and looked over the rim of the cup out the window. The warm milk caught in her throat, causing her to splutter and slam her mug down on the tiny table. Talking with an old, hunched woman with tattered shoes and a wary but eager face was a man that strangled her heart with the mere sight of him.

The man wore no hat over his half-tamed black hair and wore no scarf about his swarthy skin. The long strands hung about his face in a menacing shroud, pitch as midnight. A clean cut goatee and beard adorned his face, the rest shaved neatly, adding a frowning menace to him instead of a welcoming orderliness. Dressed in a blood red uniform with silver brooches he openly allowed the view of a pistol on his hip. The police feared who he worked for and would never attempt an arrest on such a dangerous man. A froth of cool intent hung about him like a cloud.

The old woman pointed directly at the coffee shop from their spot across the street in front of a toy store. Evelyn found herself unable to breathe, unable to move except tighten her grip on the glass as her heart leaped up her throat in horror. Bjorn turned his piercing, calculating black gaze toward her to instantly spot Evelyn sitting in the chair, her face extraordinarily pale and mouth trembling in terror.

Bjorn dropped a tiny pouch of coins into the old woman's withered hands, his gaze never leaving her terrified face. The woman bowed frantically in thanks, backing away to shuffle in the snow towards home. The cup in Evelyn's hands cracked and splintered as she gripped it when the assassin strode towards her. She felt the pain but was too paralyzed to do anything.

Shaking horribly Evelyn finally stood on quaking legs, backing away from the front door. How on earth? How could she be so stupid? Damn her naivety at people!

Bjorn van Durst was Laterr's right hand man, his guard and assassin. No one ever really saw him but somehow everyone knew him, everyone feared him, even Laterr himself. But Evelyn knew him more than anyone else, more possibly than the marquis. Tiny gasps of horror escaped her as she began crying at the images in her mind.

A young man lay in the snow, a stab wound through his soldier's uniform, darkening the deep blue to a black with its blood. The innocent snow was stained red from the spilling blood from a second wound, a deep gash over his strong throat. Wide, surprised brown eyes stared off into nothing, the head turned towards where she sat, screaming in agony. His thick brown hair was matted to his head, tiny wisps of it dancing in the unfeeling wind. Lips bruised from previous embraces were cracked in surprise

And then him, Bjorn, standing there with a detached look, his red boots buried in the red snow, cleaning a filthy dagger with a placid face. Those dark, empty eyes stared straight at her as he put the blade away to turn and disappear.

She wanted to scream, to cry and wail, to tear at her hair at the unfairness God was hurling her. Why him? Why? What was she to do? Bjorn was trained in the art of killing with anything and everything in most painful ways. Evelyn herself had witnessed his talent first hand. As he approached the assassin lowered a dark hood from his cape over his face, masking all but his determined chin and mustache.

No one knew from where Bjorn had come. No one was really sure if it was his real name. All most people knew was that he was not one to cross or Laterr for that matter. Father once told her she should marry Bjorn instead of the marquis. He was positive the assassin would kill him eventually and take over his estate. Evelyn couldn't even laugh at the ignorant remark without crying.

Evelyn felt the cold, hard edge of the counter against her lower back and her breath seemed to stop utterly. Her chest thumped in rapid beats, trying vainly to bring energy to her disobeying limbs. She should run, she should yell, she should do something! But her throat was constricted, her stomach sickened and her legs useless. Her hands gripped the cold counter, steadying her little and driving tiny shards of porcelain from the broken glass into her palms.

Bjorn entered, the door tinkling with mocking bells, his presence darkening the previously light air. He looked no where else but straight at the trembling and silently crying girl. The shop keep, who had been watching, disappeared quietly into the kitchen, locking it behind her. She was no fool to defy one of the marquis's men. She'd rather live and be silent than tell a reputedly dangerous man to leave. She'd rather swallow hot coals!

Evelyn's legs finally gave out and she fell to her knees, leaning against the base of the counter, shaking so badly that her teeth chattered as she choked a breath through a loud sob. No matter how she tried she could not stop her tormented crying or bring her nerves around enough to realize that her hands were bleeding excessively.

Bjorn took two steps forward and stopped. Even though she could not see his face Evelyn was sure he was staring directly at her with his cold, killing eyes. Her heart froze temporarily when his hand moved to reach for his belt.

Drawing out his silver pistol Bjorn pointed it up at the ceiling and fired once, the sound echoing loudly and the bullet disappearing in a gaping hole of splinters. Evelyn jumped and sobbed pathetically as the occupants of the café screamed and started, covering heads and turning to stare.

"Out, all of you," the assassin ordered quietly, his deep voice bearing a poised lethal whip. As the patrons scrambled out with terrified faces and half-concerned glances Bjorn aimed the muzzle at the petrified woman on the floor.

Evelyn didn't dare move, let alone breathe, as he stood there, coolly pointing a weapon at her terrified heart. Once the people were gone it was utterly quiet, not a sound to break the tense air.

"You really thought you could escape, didn't you? Run away from him without reprimands?" he growled in his low, gravelly and threatening tone that sent shivers down her spine. Slowly, tauntingly almost, he reached up and dropped his hood, his blank eyes full of nothing, not sadness nor remorse.

Evelyn swallowed dryly and trembled, too afraid to answer beyond a gasp of air. Seeming satisfied Bjorn put the gun back in its holster. That did nothing to alleviate her terror though; the gun was probably the least painful of his weapons. Suddenly Bjorn strode forward the last few steps to stand right in front of her.

Grabbing a fistful of red hair he dragged her to her knees, forcing her nearly limp body to be upright, turning her tear-stricken face toward his. He gazed into her horrified, fearful green eyes, unblinking. His face was a mask, a precise and cold façade. There was no way to read him, to even tell if he was amused by her sobs.

"The marquis does not wish you dead. Death is not truly a punishment worth the lie your father gave him about your fortune. Not to mention the humiliation you graced him with by running. I have two gifts from him," he said factually, not revealing anything of his intentions. Evelyn was almost positive it was going to be painful though. She stared up at him silently , completely helpless. Why struggle? What could she possibly do to this strong, imposing monster?

To her great surprise and disgust Bjorn leaned forward and planted an indifferent, unfeeling kiss on her lips. Evelyn grunted in horror and tried to pull away. His very lips seemed frozen. The assassin moved back, still without any expression and promptly and roughly punched her across the face, still not letting go of his hold on her hair.

Slumping down in his grip Evelyn felt hot, thick blood dribbling from her nose down her lips and chin. A swollen, throbbing pain echoed in her cheekbone, screaming at her brain. She nearly fainted from the blow, almost wished she would she had, but found herself painfully conscious.

"One gift."

Her dazed eyes focused again on Bjorn as he reached for his belt with one gloved hand. She whimpered faintly as he revealed a wicked-looking dagger, turning the serpentine blade slowly so the light reflected tantalizingly over her face.

"You know this blade, don't you? Oui, I imagine it would be plenty of torture for you to have the same instrument that killed your Louis, slice your flesh," he whispered into her ear, coming close enough to have his hot breath brush her. Evelyn shivered and let out an agonized cry as he ran the flat edge over her cheek. Bjorn watched her in morbid fascination at her terror, much like a cat playing with its doomed prey.

Twirling it in his skilled hand once then twice in front of her eyes he finally let a smirk hit his thin lips. Without much further ado or warning he caught the handle and swiftly drove the blade into her lower stomach.

A loud, strangled shriek of pain burst from her lips as Evelyn curled instinctively about the blade, her muscles slicing more on the cold steel in her gut. The assassin twisted slowly, relishing her screaming as the woman finally jerked in his grasp. Quickly he yanked free his blade, stepping back to avoid the gush of blood that bubbled after, slicking her legs and soaking her gown.

With a flick of the wrist Bjorn severed the hair he gripped an inch or two above her head, letting her body fall to the wooden floor to writhe in pain. Throwing the handful of locks like a dead rat at the floor he watched in twisted satisfaction.

"Two gifts."

Shakily Evelyn reached down with quivering, bleeding hands and pressed them to her puncture. She looked up at him, feeling her blood pool about her, wondering why she couldn't just faint from the pain.

Bjorn looked down at her in cold regard. He was staring at her like he did at Louis, like he did at a corpse.

"For the record, its just business."


	10. Chapter 10

-1"Where is she?!" Erik growled irritably as he paced, his blue eyes searching the snow and the streets for a sign of Evelyn. She was late. Very late. Stopping his nervous stalk he listened to a sudden noise that echoed in the distance.

A wretched feeling grew in him as he heard bells, screaming and wailing in alarm as they grew closer. Oh, he shouldn't have let her go about without him. Erik felt like beating his head in once he spotted a large black carriage speed by across the street he stood on. Its bells clanged death.

He was wary to begin with just letting her out of his sight. If this marquis was as horrid as she claimed then he must be looking for her. In this part of town he didn't believe that she would be discovered. If he could Erik would have stabbed himself twenty times in reprimands for his idiocy.

Erik felt as if someone had just kicked him in the gut, causing it to sink. A swollen feeling enveloped his terrified, beating heart as he swiftly followed, his head light. As he ran through the snow, dodging curious people who began to emerge from shops at the sound of the ambulance, he began praying in his mind. If Evelyn was hurt, he would never forgive God. Never would he forgive himself.

The chase was blessedly not far, ending in front of a tiny café where a large crowd stood gathered. They parted as the carriage pulled up, its heavy doors swinging open to let out a rush of doctors in white. Erik finally arrived, his breath fogging in smoky breaths as he searched for Evelyn. He disregarded the heavy snow and the inquisitive people who stared at him.

Fighting to see over the heads of loud onlookers he spotted two men carrying a stretcher. Through the blinding snow he spotted what lay upon it and howled in sudden rage. The people backed away as the despairing man stormed to the carriage, his gaze left unchallenged. Everything was shaky to his view, jumbled and moving too fast but he knew one thing. Evelyn was hurt.

She lay there, her hands trembling as she tried to grasp something. He noticed the shredded meat of her palms and cried out but not as loudly as he did when he discovered the source of blood. Her skin was pale and splattered with red drops from the stream that was caked over her nose and lips that moved, quaking. A large stab in her abdomen bubbled in blood, soaking her light rose dress and the stretcher. Her red locks were gone, chopped short.

Erik stood to come to her side as they moved her up to the carriage, calling out her name desperately, clutching her wrist, afraid to touch her hands. Evelyn's glazed eyes found him and she tried to speak.

"Monsieur, please, back away. This woman needs medical attention," a middle-aged policemen directed firmly, holding out a white gloved hand. Erik completely ignored him, not even bothering to glance at his protests, to follow the stretcher into the carriage.

"Erik…oh, Erik," Evelyn rasped as the two men set her down on a bench in the center of the ambulance and exited, closing the doors. Erik kneeled next to her, brushing his hand over her brow, trying as hard as he could to soothe her. Her body jerked in spasms as the heart tried to pump nonexistent blood to her veins. She gasped in quick breaths, unable to breathe. Her dazed eyes sought his, faltering closed then opening slightly.

The doctors asked no questions to Erik but immediately set to work on the fast-bleeding wound. Erik kept stroking her cheeks and singing softly as the carriage rumbled along the bumpy road, swiftly heading to the hospital. The paramedics shouted to each other, passing instruments and directions to one another over the sound of the wheels and Evelyn's steadily growing yells and gasps of pain. It was too loud, too fast moving. Things seemed to jump strangely, causing Erik's head to feel quite light in panic.

Ripping open the torso of the dress two men put a staunch deep into the stab in the blood soaked flesh, one dabbing at the fresh and old stains. Evelyn howled in pain through trembling lips and clutched his hand, driving the glass shards into her fingers even further. They pricked his own hands through his gloves, drawing drops of his own blood.

A young nurse let go of the cloth on the wound to get a needle filled with medicine, fumbling when Erik barked for a sedative in a panicked fury. After it was injected he watched fearfully as her body relaxed and eased down, her eyes rolling back into her head and sliding shut.

The only reason he did not surrender into a murderous rage was due to the weak pulse under his touch that he held on her wrist. Even so, the beat terrified him. It was just like so many others he had felt when he had been forced to strangle his victims. The faltering, slowing rhythm of a dying soul.


	11. Chapter 11

-1

Erik again was pacing wearily, growling randomly at the images that tormented him, whispering misgiving in his reluctant ears. Visions of Evelyn lying there on the stretcher, bleeding and of her dead and cold on the surgery table plagued him, sprinkled with unformulated thoughts of panic. The room he waited in at the hospital upset him with its pastel white walls and cheery white curtains. All he could focus on was the idea that Evelyn could die at any moment amongst strangers. Her life was doomed to be short as it was.

Walking frantically in the small area he felt like a caged animal, frustrated in his helplessness. He hated waiting, absolutely loathe it. And what had he been doing for the last three hours? Stalking about an unsettling, tiny room and bloody waiting!

Strangling the urge to break something like a window Erik plopped down in a plain wooden chair next to the large bed. He rested his chin in his palm, putting his elbow on the hard armrest. Trying to calm his worried and jittery nerves he studied the room the hospital had prepared for Evelyn for when she finished in surgery more carefully.

The walls were blank of any sort of pictures or decoration, barren and confining. There was one medium sized window, tall and with no opening latches, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. A seat was built into the sill, looking down upon a snow covered courtyard two stories below where an occasional doctor or nurse crossed the stone walkways.

White comforters, trimmed in blue daisy prints covered a large bed with four feather pillows. Hanging about the head were gauzy curtains, weeping in loose cascades. Across from the bed against the wall was a metal washbasinwith an array of soaps and rags.

Heaving a sigh Erik put his hands to his face and rubbed whatever loose hairs had fallen. He had a heavy feeling that this incident would drive them both further from Paris. And from each other. Blue eyes widened at the thought. Why had he thought that? Because it was his fault that she had been hurt. It wouldn't have happened if he had been there, instead of letting her wander on her own when he knew there was a dangerous man after her.

A sudden flare hit his mind as he thought about the marquis. Erik had never met this man but if he was the reason of all of Evelyn's pain then he must die. It was as simple as that. There was no reason for her pain as far as he could see and to be blatantly truthful, he didn't care if she did deserve it. Not in his eyes. And that really was all that mattered to him.

As soon as he could Erik would butcher Laterr but right now in her fragile state of health, he could not leave Evelyn. That thought made his heart freeze and his eyes narrow in suspicion and sudden panic. Could not leave? Why not? Why did he so easily decide to condemn a man to death because of a girl he barely knew? It wasn't the worst thing he had ever done but certainly not the best. It had only been about four days and he found himself attached to this astray noble.

Growling in frustration Erik stood abruptly, his movement causing the chair to groan in protest. Damn chair. How could he have allowed this? How did she get so close? Did he not get her tickets? Was he not just about planning to part ways with her? Why the hell could he not leave now?

In his pessimistic, accusing state of mind Erik berated himself for becoming so caring for a girl. It was a cover up, he knew it but he didn't want to admit it, even silently. He was so afraid of her dying and leaving him. It was foolish to care for her but he could not help it.

His gloved hands clenched tightly and his fierce eyes glowered for something to break. She was in a hospital, safe and guarded, that is if she survived surgery. So why shouldn't he leave?

With dropping anger and despair he knew why, he admitted it fully into his brain. She cared for him and he was the type of desperate man to yearn for that sort of affection. Evelyn held him voluntarily, she cried tears of honest sympathy and smiled for him. As long as he could remember Christine only feared him, loathed him and cursed his name once she had known the truth of who he really was. Every time he touched her there was slight disgust in her brown, terrified eyes. True, he could enchant her and enflame her with merely a hymn sung in a minute but that was only due to her childish remnants of a supposed angel. But beyond that there was no love from her.

Erik stopped walking and gazed at the metal basin and its pure, still water. He studied his reflection avidly, taking in the frustrated expression, tired eyes and wasted frame. Why on earth did she care? He never used any of his bewitching talents upon her. He hadn't sung spectacularly or tried enticing her in any way and yet she seemed to care about his life and welfare. It was as if she liked him for himself not the things the world had come to know him for. As if that was even thinkable! Now that he thought about it, she never mentioned his old persona or seemed to fear him beyond a cautious, half-sparked terror when he became upset.

His jumbled thoughts came to a screeching halt when a modest knock on the door gave him a small heart attack. He turned about to find a young blonde nurse peering around the door at him fearfully. Great, another believer in the Opera Ghost.

Erik composed his nervous stature and startled visage into his old cold, blank façade. The young woman's brown eyes widened as he stalked over, his dark, foreboding presence overwhelming her.

"What is it?" he asked darkly, staring unblinkingly at her. She choked several times and swallowed before finally speaking.

"Sh-she's out of surgery. They're bringing her in right now," she stuttered, her voice high in nervousness. Erik pulled open the door fully, almost laughing when she tripped over her own feet trying to back up. He nodded his thanks with a small teasing smile that seemed to frighten the girl even more.

"Here they come, monsieur."

The nurse was right, he found as he looked out to find several doctors walking towards the room from down the hall, totting a medical stretcher. Erik stepped back into the room, out of they way as they came in, muttering to each other. They came astride the bed, allowing two of them to list and set the unconscious woman in the large bed, shifting the covers gently over her frame.

As they filed past, each nervously putting a sympathetic pat on his wasted shoulder, they all bore terribly sad faces. Erik's heart swelled and fell dead at their expressions, causing him to chew on his tongue to contain a howl and a burst of anger. They all looked as if they had placed a dead woman on that bed, instead of a patient. After a few minutes the last doctor left, closing the door and locking them in with one final medic.

Evelyn laid in the bed, nestled peacefully in the fluffed white blankets, like a sleeping infant. She seemed so fragile, her flesh a marble-white, the veins almost visible in her neck. The drained blue of her lips stood in contrast to her skin and the tattered remains of her hair. Her chest rose shakily in shallow, stuttered breaths. White gauze was wrapped about both hands, light blood splotches seeping through.

The white hospital gown she wore had short sleeves and v-shaped collar that revealed even more of her dead-looking skin. An evil looking purple bruise made the mark of a fist on her left cheekbone, marring her face.

Erik flinched at her appearance and approached quietly in half-fear and terror. She looked like she had when he found her, frozen in the tunnels. Shakily he knelt by the bed and touched her arm, his thumb brushing over her cold skin. Unexpectedly he found tears in his eyes as he grasped her unresponsive wrist, praying again.

It was odd but he never really prayed until he met Evelyn. Now he found himself praying every five minutes for her to live.

"Monsieur?"

Erik turned to look over his shoulder at the doctor who stood nearby. He had long silvery hair pulled back in a distinguished tie. Like all doctors he wore a medical robe, only his was graced with a handsome vest, revealed partially. His face was tired but hopeful, like a man who had seen much sorrow but at the same time so many miracles. His old but dignified blue eyes gazed at him in quiet weariness, revealing much experience. The doctor seemed like one who had been too many places and met many strange people.

"Oui?"

"Monsieur, I must talk with you before the young lady awakens," he muttered lowly and politely. Erik swallowed hard and nodded, knowing he was not going to enjoy this by the mere tone of his voice. Standing he gave Evelyn's arm a final, gentle squeeze and turned to leave.


	12. Chapter 12

-1"Monsieur, what is your relationship to the mademoiselle?" the doctor asked as they walked about the courtyard, his hands clasped behind his back. The snow had stopped and the sky cleared, making the temperature drop even more. The sun hurt Erik's sensitive eyes and bothered him greatly.

"She is my fiancé, Jacqueline de Soche from Vienna. We were on a trip here to visit family when she was attacked," Erik answered distantly, almost amazed at how easily the lie spilled forth. It would be sheer stupidity to reveal her identity to anyone, especially after such an attack. He stared absently at a barren, frozen rose bush, the gnarled vines barbed with long thorns. A twisted, dead rose hung forlornly on a stem, its previous beauty brittle.

"Do you have any idea of who it was that attacked her?"

"Non, I do not, monsieur…?"

"Ghiraldio. Witnesses would not testify who it was. They're scared or witless. Imbéciles(idiots)," he explained peevishly, stopping his walk to look seriously at Erik. He gazed back at the doctor and sighed wearily.

"What is wrong with her?" he asked quietly, dreading what the older man was to say. Ghiraldio turned to him fully and placed his hands bracingly on Erik's stiff shoulders. He opened his mouth but closed his eyes and lowered his head, collecting himself. Erik wanted to strangle him for his hesitance.

"Mademoiselle de Soche was stabbed through her womb. The tubes were severed and the damage is irreparable," he said in a forced voice, sadness clearly seeping through although he did not raise his eyes. Erik stared at his bowed head, a weight of terror weighing inside of him, smothering his breathing capabilities.

"What exactly are you saying, monsieur?" he croaked, knowing somehow that he must hear it full out. Ghiraldio raised his face and steeled himself visibly, tightening his grip on his shoulders. He stared honestly and sadly into Erik's eyes.

"Regrettably, I must inform you that due to the damage, your fiancé will never be able to bear children again."

A long, tense silence ensued, broken only by the flutter of pigeons above on the hospital roofs. A dark anger welled in Erik's heart, a murderous rage that he hadn't felt since the gypsies had beaten him, causing him to take his first life. He wanted to throttle the mean, to scream and cry and laugh in despair at the same time. Dead pain burned holes in his stomach and made his heart sink to nothing.

"What?"

"I am very sorry. We did all we could for we. All we managed to do is save her from bleeding to death."

"Did you say 'again'?"

"Oui, she appears to have recently carried and lost a child. Did you not know?"

"Non. Non I had not."


	13. Chapter 13

-1His fingertips glided over the fine hairs of her cheek, barely touching her flesh. The dainty, dark eyelashes fluttered and her eyebrows knitted in her sleep. The lamps were lit, casting an orange glow about the room, making the falling snow outside seem paler like Evelyn's skin.

Erik watched her, nearly delighted in the way he made her twitch and move in her sleep. Sitting in the chair he had his chin propped in his palm, the other hand playing and twirling in the silken threads of her butchered hair.

He didn't know if he should be angry at her or sadder. Part of him was upset that even though he told her his story she held back so much from him about her past. Another was wishing just to scoop her up from the bed and hold her desperately. It pained him to realize that so many unknown horrors could be tormenting her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered sadly, brushing his thumb over her still, parted lips, feeling the faint air tingle his skin. Evelyn's eyes fluttered and tightened suddenly as her chest heaved in a heavy breath under her white cotton gown.

"Tell you what?" she moaned quietly as her breath escaped her in a long rush. The sea eyes slid open slowly to search for his. Erik gasped in relief and cupped her face in his hands, rising to sit on the bed.

"Mon dieu, I never thought you would wake! allez-vous(how are you doing)?" he exclaimed honestly, now terribly reminded of what pain she would have to endure. Evelyn winced and shifted in her bed, burying her face into the warm palm of his hand, her eyes watered in pain.

"Oh, Erik! I hurt! I hurt so badly," she cried, tiny tears slipping down the sides of her eyes and into her hair. Her bandaged hands tried gripping the sheets as she writhed and moaned. Erik stroked her cheek and wiped away a stray tear. He choked sadly and steeled himself.

"I'm afraid you are to hurt more, Evelyn. Why didn't you tell me about your…your enfant?"

For a long moment she stared up at him in agony, her eyes watered in sadness and pain. Her body trembled as sobs rose up, causing her to curl into a ball on her side. The squeezing pain she felt shot up from her abdomen. Erik massaged her back, brushing hair back from her flushed face.

"Erik! Oh, Erik, ma dear Erik! I d-didn't want to upset you anymore with my troubles," she sobbed pitifully, her shaky, bandaged hands covering face. A wracking gasp escaped her. She couldn't bear looking at his concerned and soothing blue eyes, couldn't stand the care and gentleness he showed as he rubbed her back and whispered to her.

"I'm a monstre(monster), Erik! A monstre! Louis…he's dead because of me! Even though I was betrothed to Laterr I had fallen in love with a soldier, my Louis. That démon, Laterr, heard of us and…"

Evelyn stopped and began crying harder, clutching her belly. Erik stood up to go get a nurse, muttering that she needed another sedative.

"Non, Erik! Come back. I want to tell you," she pleaded loudly. Unable to refuse Erik came back and sat, resuming his quiet soothing. "Laterr raped me! He came last year secretly and took me."

"The enfant was his?"

"Non, and I thank Dieu it was not. It was Louis's. I was a good three months along when he came. Laterr was angry and didn't want the risk of losing my supposed fortune. He wanted to teach me a lesson.

Louis and I had ran away when I told him what happened. But Bjorn found us and…he killed Louis because I loved him. I'm a monstre! I never should have…" she broke off in an anguished scream, her whole body quivering in exertion. Erik put an arm about her shoulders and half-embraced her, careful not to put weight on her. His eyes burned in hatred and anger at the marquis and this Bjorn but he remained silent.

"Then he learned I was pregnant. He sent Bjorn to poison me when I was five months along. My baby died, Erik! They killed it," she continued, calming down from Erik's warmth although her breath hitched and hindered her speech. "They took everything from me. Everything that meant anything in my life."

A thousand vengeances burned Erik like the sting of a swarm of angry wasps. His breathing became shallow from rage and his heart ached for the woman he held. Evelyn lay still under his embrace, her covered hands clutching his larger one in again. He bit back the blood-thirsty poison he felt in his veins and sat up stroking her sweaty forehead.

Evelyn let go of him to feel her belly more carefully through the gown. When her fingers brushed the tender stitches she whimpered and shuddered.

"How bad is it, Erik?" she asked miserably, looking up at him with terror-stricken eyes. A chord in his heart was plucked and he found himself unable to answer her.

"Tell me, s'il te plaît! What did Bjorn do to me?!" she pleaded, her voice rising in panic. Evelyn tried sitting up only to fall back again from a lack of strength. A dark, furious frown took over his face, turning his eyes murderous and cold.

"Bjorn?" Erik finally growled lowly. "This is because of him?"

He put a hand on her shoulder, tempering his urge to shake the answer from her. Evelyn noted his fiery gaze and stony expression. The color drained even more from her face and her mouth opened in shock.

"Erik, Erik, s'il te plaît, listen to me," she demanded weakly, grabbing his hand as he stood stiffly. "Don't go after him, s'il te plaît ! He is too dangerous! S'il te plaît!"

Erik gently but forcefully pulled himself free from her grasp. Kissing the back of her trembling hand he let go and turned to the door.

"I'm going to get rid of them and end this for you."

He hardly heard her pleading cries as he strode to leave, his heart and eyes locked in an icy oath for their deaths. The inflamed pains in his mind bit at him, demanding fulfillment and the life-blood of her tormenters. His rage possessed him tightly, urging him to kill and keep Evelyn safe from those sick, twisted men.

The only thing that stopped him from opening the door and searching out his prey was not any type of plea or blockade but a very soft but solid thud to the head. He turned in surprise to look down upon a crumpled pillow, his fierce determination unfaltering despite his pause.

Evelyn stood next to the bed, her face flushed in anger, pain and tears. Her hair was in disarray, frizzed and lank at the same time. The green of her eyes stood out against the swollen pink of her eyelids and trembling lips, the bruising on her cheekbone. In her hand was another pillow, ready to throw.

Erik noticed how her legs shook and quaked, how her whole frame looked on the verge of collapse. He managed to keep his face in a grimace even though he cried internally at her defiance and overwhelming sadness.

"Don't you dare," Evelyn rasped, her voice thick with threatening rage. Erik found himself actually bewildered at the fury this sickly woman glowered at him with. She had never shown this type of anger and quite frankly he hadn't thought her capable of it.

"Don't you dare leave this room, Erik. You go after them and I will never see you again," she hissed, her bandaged hands ripping at the pillow she held. Erik tried to give her a soothing look.

"I will come back, Evelyn. They cannot harm me. Those men cannot be allowed to live. I will return for you and you will finally be happy," he reassured her quietly, turning to leave again. Again she flung the pillow at him, this time clipping his shoulder, giving a frustrated yell.

"Crétin imbécile(blithering idiot)! I don't want you to come back if you do this!" she spat at him, making him turn to look at her again. He found her crying again. "Don't you get it? I don't want you to kill for me! I don't want more death on my soul! Louis and my baby are dead because of me! I can't loose you too, Erik! I don't want you to die! I don't want that, not even if it meant ridding the world of those démons! I just…I just want you to be happy. I just want you to live how you deserve!"

Evelyn's angry strength finally gave way to weakness, her screaming fading away to gasping. Her vision blurred from lack of air and her legs gave way under her. Crumbling to the hardwood floor she lay limply, sobbing angrily. A heavy heart choked her, angered her even more. She wanted to rip it out so she wouldn't hurt anymore for her dead love and child. She didn't want to feel anymore, she couldn't stand it.

The sight of her lying there, crying wretchedly and weakly beating the floor with her little fists made the flaming anger and hate in Erik's heart melt. It didn't disappear but merely pooled in his mind, latent under a smothering flood of self-chastisement and (dare he think it) love?

Kneeling next to her Erik pulled her halfway into his lap, letting her curl against him, sobbing. Evelyn battered him faintly with weak fury until that strength too gave away. She looked up at him to find him much changed.

Erik's eyes showed no sign of the frozen rage that had so possessed him just moments before. They glowed in a soothing grey-blue ocean of warmth and sad disbelief. He looked almost placid, a slight smile tugging at his lips under his porcelain mask. At that moment Evelyn wanted nothing more than to see his face fully but honored her promise.

"Say that again," he asked softly, cradling her like some treasure, brushing a hand over her shredded hair. She felt pathetic and undeserving of such attention.

"Didn't you hear me? I'm a monstre. How can you be so kind to me?" Evelyn murmured despairingly. Erik let out a laugh at her innocent self-damnation.

"Because if you are a monster then I am a much greater beast. There is nothing you did wrong except for being born into such a horrid family. But, s'il te plaît …say it again."

"Say what?"

"What you said before in such a sad voice. S'il te plaît, say it again, ma Evelyn."

"I just want you to be happy," she responded, a bit confused but relieved to see that he seemed to have lost his murderous temper. Erik smiled again.

"And do you mean that? Do you honestly want that for me, ma petite cherie?" he inquired of her, secretly desperate to hear her say so. After a moment of staring at him she smiled and nodded.

"Oui, Erik, I do. I have only known you for a few days but you are as dear to me as Louis had been. Since him you are the only one to care for my well-being without profit. I'm sorry to keep bringing him up, but you and him are the only people I truly cared for."

Erik grinned in almost triumph and embraced her, collecting her close and caressing the remains of hair. She felt so weak and small in his arms but he knew how to protect her now. It hit him hard like a bolt of lightening, burned in brazen letters across the back of his mind. Her reference to Louis did not hurt him but rather made him feel honored that she cared for him as much as her former love.

"Come with me," he said suddenly, pulling away to look at her. Evelyn stared back in amazement but somewhat excited by his wild look.

"What?"

"After you've healed enough for travel, let me take you with me to Germany. We'll get away from Paris. You won't be safe in Venice. S'il te plaît, come with me?" he asked seriously, keeping a steady gaze on her with his intense eyes. Evelyn opened her mouth several times but no sound came out. Finally she smiled and nodded.

"Oui, I will," she replied happily, attempting to embrace him again. Erik smiled into her sweet hair, enjoying the feeling of her heart pounding against him. A sudden tiny whimper reached his ears right before her body began to tremble feverishly.

"Evelyn, what is wrong?" he cried, pulling away, having to support her completely as she shivered. The woman moaned, clutching her stomach weakly, tears of pain falling again. Erik gently laid her on the floor and pried her hands away to find her bleeding again, staining her hands and gown.

"Help, I need a doctor!" he bellowed in panic, lifting Evelyn to lay her on the bed. He watched fearfully as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she quickly fainted. Erik felt a squeezing pain in his chest, suddenly afraid that God was reaching down to snatch his precious gift that had just been given to him.

His loving monstre, like him in her guilt. Not an angel with cold innocence or carelessness. But a human with faults of her own and regrets. A monstre who cared.


	14. Chapter 14

-1"S'il vous plaît(please), make sure she does not rise again, monsieur. Next time it might prove fatal," Ghiraldio cautioned, injecting a pain killer into the blue vein in Evelyn's arm. She watched blankly in mute fascination as the needle slid in and a milky substance escaped into her flesh.

"I am giving you a dose of morphine. You may be drowsy but that's alright. Annabelle will be out in the halls if you should need anything," he added as he capped the needle and slid it into a pocket. The doctor cast a look of encouragement to Erik.

"Will you be staying in here with your fiancé, monsieur?"

"Uh, oui."

Giving Evelyn a nod Ghiraldio headed out closing the door. She turned to give Erik an incredulous look, her eyebrow raised in question.

"Zut(damn it), I needed to tell them something," he explained in self-defense, quickly becoming embarrassed. Evelyn smiled and nodded in a teasing way.

"I suppose half-sister wouldn't suffice, then?" she chuckled, relaxing into the pillows. Erik gave her a flustered glare and crossed his arms over his chest.

"If I had then it would be unacceptable to share the room," he huffed, frustrated. She merely laughed and waved in dismissal.

"Well, I'm honored to be your play fiancé," she joked, half-serious. Erik finally smiled and shrugged.

"Who wouldn't be?"

They both laughed lightly. Evelyn held her bandaged hand out to him, beckoning him to hold it. Only the stitches in her palms were covered now, revealing the back of her hand. Erik absently stroke the skin with his thumb, his grey-blue eyes dazed as he watched the lamp-light give Evelyn's blood-drained skin an orange-like tint. Her wound and stitches had bled quite a bit before the doctors managed to staunch the flow. She seemed however to be in light moods.

"I'm so tired," Evelyn murmured sleepily, almost as if she didn't realize she had said it aloud. An exhausted weight landed on her eyelids, dragging them down. She gave his hand a light squeeze, the strength in her arms almost completely gone.

"Erik, I'm sorry if I fall asleep on you. I'm afraid I might," she said, struggling to stay awake. He smiled softly.

"Its alright. Go ahead and sleep."

"Okay. Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever been to the ocean?"

"Non, I haven't."

"Me neither. When I'm better can we go see it?"

"Bien entendu(of course), whatever you want."

"Erik?"

"Oui?"

"Would you…would you sleep next to me?" she asked timidly, her eyes closed still but a blush reddened her cheeks. Erik found himself flushing as well at her request but stood anyway. Unlacing his shoes he slid them off, letting them thud onto the ground. As gently as he could he sat down on the side of the bed and swung his legs up on top of the covers.

Erik curled a bit on his side, watching a flutter of a frown and a nervous smile dance over her features. Her feeble hand grasped his, cold and pale. A deep sigh escaped her and she seemed to deflate a little. A small smile grew on her face.

"I feel so much better now that you know the truth. Now I feel like I can finally rest."


	15. Chapter 15

-1Three weeks passed easily with no further weakening or worsening of Evelyn's condition. It was coming upon Christmas when she was finally allowed to go about in a wheel chair. The stitches were not to be removed until late January but her strength returned to a nearly normal state.

Erik watched her as her health improved to an almost normal state. She wasn't as well as he had wanted but her general vitality had been restored. She ate just as she had before but her body thinned quite a bit. The doctors said it was due to the medication and not towards any sort of a life threatening condition.

When she was able to sit up in bed, Erik hired a woman to cut Evelyn's hair into a decent bob instead of the mangled mess it had been before. When she complained about being bored of the room, he painted the walls with murals using whatever talent he had in the art. The hospital didn't care much for it but warned that once they left they would have to white wash it all.

After his work was done Ghiraldio came and visited them. He'd sit and talk with them about other patients or places he had been during his life. Erik enjoyed the stories as much as Evelyn. They would sit for hours talking until the doctor had to return home to his wife.

"Nagging old mare," Ghiraldio would always say whenever he had to leave. One time the older man came with a gift to Evelyn. He brought a hand-crafted violin from a special maker he had been buying from for years.

Erik took it upon himself to teach her the instrument. Evelyn wasn't extraordinarily good but she was efficient once she learned the basics. It was actually one of the many things Erik liked about her. She was nothing overtly special but she was wonderful in her own quiet way. It made him feel comfortable and relaxed to know that she was not some goddess he could not approach.

Erik played a bit for her, a bit wary of actually doing so. More recently and frequently the urge to sing and play and burst had possessed him. He would find himself straining to not expel his mounting furies on the poor wooden instrument.

The longer he watched Evelyn and the longer and more he knew who she was, the more enraged he became. Every smile she cast to him burned him inside in happiness and secret longing to avenge her.

Behind smiles Erik assured her over and over that he would not seek out Laterr or Bjorn but after each oath he urged to do so more. His frustration drove him mad, especially without an outlet. Somehow he managed to hide his anger, even though he had no idea what he did to do so.

Several times he wanted to tell her what had happened. But every time he came close to telling her the result of the attack his heart froze and his lips sealed themselves. He could not bring himself to cause her this pain. After a while he finally convinced himself that she would just be happier not knowing. Maybe one day she may wonder and ask but until then he could not reveal the tragedy.

"Do you remember what today is?" Evelyn asked placidly as Erik walked her through the frozen garden in her wheelchair. Tucked warmly over her legs was a thick, woolen blanket, covering her slipper-shod feet. The sky was clouded over, making the air still and moderately warm compared to the week before.

"Non, what is today?" Erik asked curiously, stopping by a large stone bench. Brushing off powdery snow with a gloved hand he sat down, pulling Evelyn to face him. He wore his normal clothes with his fedora, keeping his head warm.

The ends of her hair now brushed the nape of her thin neck. Covering her red ears was a gray cap, the hem loose on her forehead. A grin creased her face, causing her green eyes to sparkle excitedly. Her nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold, giving her a healthier look than the wan, sickly look she had before. Giving a glance about as if looking for eavesdroppers she leaned closer to whisper to him.

"Its Christmas, ma dear Erik, and I have a gift for you," she breathed playfully to him. Erik gave her a surprised look and blinked. Grinning in triumph at finally surprising the generally unshakable man, Evelyn dug about in her frock pocket, drawing out a small box.

It was a golden box about the size of his hand with a red silk ribbon. She handed it to him joyfully then folded her hands impatiently in her lap.

"I bought it before we came here. I think you'll like it."

For a moment Erik stared at the tiny gift as if it was a strange and wonderful marvel that might be snatched away from him. He had never been given a present, never even considered celebrating the holiday. As far as he knew he was of no particular religion and with the fact that he never had anyone to share it with, he never bothered.

Very slowly he pulled one end of the ribbon, unraveling it. He paused to look up at Evelyn who smiled encouragingly and motioned toward it. Delicately he pulled open the golden wrapper, afraid to rip it, to reveal a velvet gray box. With quietly excited and shaky hands he pried the lid open.

Inside lay a lovely silver watch with a long intricate chain. The cover had a flowing circuit of musical notes about the edges, the writing very elegant in its curves. In the center was a large full-bloomed rose; even in silver it seemed to be blushing.

Too stunned to say anything Erik pulled it out of the box, holding it like it was made of glass. Opening the clasp he stared at the ivory clock face and its little black, ticking hands. Trembling he turned it over to find the words: 'For my dear Erik' written on the back in sheepish lettering.

"Do you like it?" Evelyn asked in a tiny voice. He looked up at her with a grateful gaze, a smile tapering his lips gently. Reaching out he took her gloved hand and placed a thankful kiss upon it. Holding it warmly in both hands Erik nodded.

"Very much so. Merci, Evelyn. I never had a gift before. And now I suppose I can give you what I have been holding onto," he responded, quickly standing. Evelyn smiled up at him, watching as he clasped the watch on and tucked it into a pocket. "I'll be right back."

Trotting quickly he headed upstairs to their room. Shuffling through a bag of things he had collected from his room under the opera, Erik found the box. When he returned Evelyn sat patiently, watching light snowflakes dance down to collect on her blanket. She turned in her chair to watch him stride over and sit down, a wide smile on her face.

"I bought it a while back but couldn't find the right moment to give it to you," he explained warmly, handing her the black box. It was small in width but longer than the watch box had been. He frowned a bit when she shook it slightly. "I didn't wrap it."

"Oh, well. Less mess," Evelyn laughed, not readily caring. "I only wrapped yours because I was bored. That and I loved the ribbon."

Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes like an excited child and opened the lid. In a forced patience she opened an eye and gasped. Both sea orbs flew open in surprise and delight.

"Oh! Erik!" she cooed ecstatically. A golden heart pendant hung on a slender chain, glittering in the grey light. Tiny cracks danced along the surface, revealing a deeper, rawer gold. It was modestly small and none too flashy, just the way she liked things to be.

"Its so lovely!"

"I'm glad you like it," he replied happily, taking the box from her. Pulling the necklace loose he stood to walk around her. Evelyn sat still as he clasped it about her thinning neck.

She held in a breath as his fingers brushed her skin, causing the little hairs to rise and her flesh to shudder. She trembled when he pulled the fine hairs free from the chain and let his hands slid off her shoulders. More and more with each passing day she found herself looking forward to his touch, hoping he would just so she could feel it.

Clearing his throat Erik sat back down, trying hard to maintain his composure. Touching her became a struggle now but it was also so very tempting. He couldn't bear her weak, innocent body being so sweetly trusted to his care. It was strange, thrilling and frightening that Evelyn let him be so close without fear any longer.

Erik never had someone sit and talk with him about silly things or joke with him. They had all been flinching in fear or acting like he was a different species. To his surprise, no one had dared ask about his face in the hospital. He had the suspicious feeling they knew who he was though. As soon as the snow thawed they would have to leave.

As he looked at her smiling face and sparkling eyes he found his secret so hard to hold in. Evelyn reached up and touched the heart, feeling her own flutter against her ribcage like a trapped butterfly. Despite the calm, chilled weather, her body was raging in a seductive fire by just looking into Erik's blue eyes that seemed to scour her soul. It terrified her but soothed so many pains at the same time. She looked into his passionate eyes and felt her breath hitch despite her attempts to calm it.

Was it happening? She was so terrified of letting it happen, so afraid to have her heart scarred again. She searched herself but could not find a tangible answer. He looked at her with such concern and care that she couldn't help but want to hold him close and tell him she was fine.

Without truly thinking Evelyn opened her arms to him, beckoning. After a moments pause Erik stood then kneeled next to her, wrapping her protectively in a warm embrace. She buried her cold face into his chest and sighed at his heart that thundered mightily by her ear.

"A golden heart to match the one you so willing share with me," Erik whispered into her ear, tickling it with his hot breath. Evelyn shuddered and held him tighter.

"I share it with you because you deserve it so much," she answered in a quiet breath. Pulling away slightly she looked up into his gaze, still clutched possessively to him. "Merci for everything. You are the dearest friend I have. Merci."

Erik smiled at her and embraced her again in response, never wanting to let go of the woman. He breathed in her smell of vanilla, honey and that special, womanly scent they all possessed.

"I will always protect you. I'm too involved with you just to let you go anymore. No one I ever going to hurt you again. I promise," he swore honestly with such fire that Evelyn almost felt scorched by the heat he spoke with.

"I haven't been this happy in so long," she murmured sweetly. Erik found his throat constricted again. Nuzzling into the nape of her neck he sighed.

"Neither have I."


	16. Chapter 16

-1 "Merci raiment(thank you kindly) for everything, Monsieur Ghiraldio. We shall not forget everything you have done or your kindness," Erik said, shaking the doctors hand in sincere gratitude. After he let go the older man waved a hand in dismissal.

"Anything for the young mademoiselle," he returned in dry humor with a small chuckle, taking Evelyn's hand and kissing it. She smiled warmly and lowered her hand.

"And thank you for the violin and wonderful stories, monsieur," she added demurely, folding them in her lap. "When I learn it more I shall have to write you a song."

"I would be flattered."

"With Erik's help, bien entendu," Evelyn added, looking up at the man hopefully. Erik shrugged and nodded.

"Of course, mon enfant. Anything for our splendid doctor," he laughed wryly. They stood in the foyer of the hospital, saying there good-byes to Ghiraldio. Evelyn remained in her wheelchair with the orders to stay in it for another week. The stitches had been removed two weeks before, it now being mid-March. During their stay in the hospital Erik had taken to calling her many affectionate (or taunting) names. It made him feel more comfortable in the knowledge that she was under his care if he could name her in ways his.

Semi-chilling temperatures in the morning with rainy afternoons heralded springs arrival. The sunlight danced through the windows that compromised the entire front wall of the hospital building. Outside snow-free grounds provide plenty of tromping ground for children who had waited a long winter to play. Older folks and couples walked about, enjoying the warmth and the sun. The smell of blooming flowers and budding greens filled the air from outer pastures, the spring breeze blowing in the intoxicating fumes.

"You'll get better over time. Do not worry," the doctor reassured Evelyn with a fatherly smile. "I know how much you ponder your predicament. You and your fiancé will figure this out."

Evelyn frowned slightly. Predicament? She looked up at Erik curiously, opening her mouth to ask him about what the doctor could possibly mean. Before she could inquire he shushed her and mouthed the words, 'wheelchair'. She mouthed back, 'oh' and smiled.

Suddenly Annabelle, the nurse from before, scurried up to whisper in the doctor's ear. Even after having the two staying in the hospital for a good few months she still eyed Erik in half-terror. Ghiraldio frowned in worry and heaved a regretful sigh.

"Well, for now, I must say good luck and farewell. I have others in need of my assistance," he finalized, giving them both one last encouraging look. "Good luck in your marriage."

Fortunately he turned to follow Annabelle in time to miss their simultaneous blush. Evelyn looked up at Erik who smiled thoughtfully.

"Its odd but Monsieur Ghiraldio is more of a father to me than anything I have ever known," Erik admitted, looking down at the woman who nodded in agreement.

"I know what you mean. I'll miss him. Let's write when we get to Munich," she replied, tugging on his hand to leave. "Can we walk? Or…rather…oh, bother, you know what I mean. I want to be in the light for a bit before being in a stuffy old train."

Erik laughed at her pout as he took hold of the handles and wheeled her about to the front door.

"If you really want to, you spoiled imp," he teased lightly, prodding her gently. Evelyn turned and gave him a mock-outraged look, her mouth dropped in a cute 'o' shape. She slapped his hand away in good humor as he pushed her toward the entrance.

"Devoir avoir honte(shame on you)! Is that anyway to speak to your fiancé?" she demanded haughtily.

"Only when she's being rotten, ma Evelyn."

"Your despicable sometimes!"

"One tries. Now, if you get sick, I'll never-"

"Erik?!" a voice cried out incredulously, cutting off the man's joking threat. Evelyn looked over curiously, her smile fading but Erik froze in his steps, still looking down at the woman's turned head, his heart pounding and eyes widened. That voice…that voice! He recognized its high and lilting tune, knew every chord and timber in that sound in that slender neck. He had heard it for so long and was finally being content in not hearing it.

Swallowing hard Erik finally looked up, forcing his eyes to see the woman standing there, her face in utter surprise and horror. Her long brown curls were drawn up in a bun, cut shorter. Her half revealed arms had filled out a bit and he instantly knew why when he saw a generous bulge spouting from her regal, blue maternity gown. Her face he would recognize even if it was mutilated. All the feelings of anger and loneliness that she had left him wallowing in came rushing back as he looked at those startled, scared brown eyes.

"Christine…"

Out of the corner of his eye Erik saw Evelyn's head turn to him sharply. Christine collected herself somewhat and looked about as if wondering why no one else in the hospital was panicking about having the Phantom of the Opera in broad daylight. Protectively she crossed her arms over her belly, as if he would now attempt to kidnap her and her child again.

"What are you doing here? We thought you were dead," she said warily, her silvery voice shaking. With her question came a million accusations that bit at his mind. Suddenly he found his strength as he felt Evelyn quivering in rage in her chair and heard her growl as much as she could in her throat. Drawing himself up as if his once-angel was a meaningless onlooker, Erik looked upon her in distant coolness.

"That just shows how much you understand me, Madam de Chagney. That's Raoul's doing, I suppose?" he asked icily, nodding at her swelling belly and resting a hand on Evelyn's shoulder. He felt her relax instantly, resting back and letting out a sigh of dislike. Christine blushed furiously and nodded defiantly. Her little chin rose in pride and she expelled some of her fear.

"Oui, it is. As well it should be considering that I am his wife," she retorted back venomously. She made a gesture at Evelyn and Erik knew instantly that this was not going to be pretty. "Is that your doing?"

Now Evelyn reddened in both anger and embarrassment, her healed hands clutching the arms of her chair in fury. Erik's face purpled and he accidentally tightened his grip on her shoulder.

"How dare you?! How dare you come in here and accuse Erik! How could you-?" Evelyn shouted furiously at Christine, rising from her chair somewhat. A slight pain stung her but she stood completely before Erik tried forcefully to sit her down again. "He saved my life! You ungrateful, brainless brat! Infecte pute(vile bitch)!"

"Evelyn!" Erik finally barked at her. She stopped and looked at him, angry that he had yelled for her to stop. Her eyes had swelled in tears and her lip trembled as she tried to hold back from it. He had never heard something so vulgar come from her before and frankly it shocked him. Attempting to calm her Erik smiled soothingly and shook his head"S'il te plaît, Evelyn, your heart cannot take this. S'apaiser(Calm down). It's alright," he reassured her. The woman sighed heavily and nodded. Unfortunately, her legs were none strong enough to support her after being useless for moths. Erik caught her as they quaked and gave out. She let him gently guide her back to her seat but her green eyes were fixedly seething in hate at Christine.

When the strange woman had began yelling Christine found herself blatantly surprised. It was strange to watch a man who had frightened and enchanted her so be gentle and caring toward a foreign woman so soon after the incident. She watched them warily but almost curiously as Erik tucked the woolen blanket about the woman's legs with tenderness she had never before witnessed in him. She remembered him killing and threatening, seducing and forcing. But never…this!

"Hush, ma cher, do not exert yourself. You still have a week before you are supposed to get up," he consoled softly, containing his own anger very precisely. Secretly he was rather glad that she had stood up for him so and proud that she cared for him so. She was weak, sickly and so very young and yet she defied Christine as if she had a million years to live. Granted, the woman was not formidable but with Evelyn knowing Christine's old power over him, it made her anger a more forced obstinacy. Evelyn looked up at him heatedly but let a smile flit over her rapidly thinning face.

"Mademoiselle Evelyn was in my tunnels last year. She had an accident with an old…acquaintance. I have been overseeing her health," Erik told Christine coldly, giving her shoulder a pat and a squeeze. His blue eyes narrowed. "We were just leaving home."

"Home. I see, well…" Christine began, a bit dazed by the sight before her, fumbling with her hands over her ample belly. Her head jerked up suddenly in some sort of horrible realization. "Erik, you are not trying to do what-"

"Christine, do you really think I would repeat such an idiotic mistake? Give me a little more credit," he interrupted tightly, pushing Evelyn's chair toward the door. As he passed her, Christine and Evelyn eyed each other like upset, wet cats.

"Farewell, Madame de Chagney. Good luck with your new family," Erik muttered to her, with the final tone of good-bye. Guiding the chair to the door he thanked a passerby who held the door open.

Christine made no move to reply or follow. She merely watched the once Phantom of the Opera disappeared around the corner beyond the windows with what looked like a genuine smile. He seemed much happier than she ever thought capable. She almost felt jealous. In all the years she had heard and then seen Erik she had never made him happy. This Evelyn must be something special to make him grin like that.

When she was younger it was easy to love an angel, one she actually never believed would ever show himself. But then he was real, physical and powerful. He was no angel but a man. It angered her that he had lied to her and that he continued to lie about his past. She needed the blunt truth in everything and that was how Raoul was. Honest, somewhat dumb, and ever naïve of pain like she.

Christine did feel great pity towards Erik but not enough to live her life out in the dark. She was drawn to fame and fortune, only under a spotlight did she glow and feel happiness. Ever since she was a child she knew she was a performer not a martyr. It was not her calling. One of the many things that had attracted her to Raoul was the fact that he didn't need healing or constant love.

The two things she knew Erik desperately needed. He must have found himself a martyr to love him.


	17. Chapter 17

-1Light rain splattered on the window pane, streaming the landscape downwards like a wet oil painting. Even though the image was blurry, Evelyn spotted the splashes of green of oak trees and grass. The sky was a deep, smoky gray, somehow managing to brighten the scenery with its comparison. A deep silver strand that was a small unnamed river danced along their view. The air was somewhat clammy due to the rainy weather but it was rather soothing compared to the swarming warmth of the trains outer corridor.

Heaving a tired and bored sigh she sat back against the comfortable seat, her hands playing with a handkerchief Annabelle had given her for luck. A monotonous and calming clattering of the trains wheels droned in her ears, muttering lowly and deeply. The compartment she sat in smelled of coffee, a spicy meat and hearty fruit smell mixed with pancakes.

"Eat. We are still four hours from Troyes," Erik said suddenly, cutting through the sleepy silence. Evelyn jumped slightly and turned from the window to face him.

The man sat across from her, fixedly watching his knife as it cut through his stack of fluffy pancakes, the edges surrounded with a couple of sausages and melon cubes. A similar plate sat in front of her on a standing tray. Except hers was smothered with strawberries instead of blackberries like his.

"Alright," she complied quietly, poking at her food with a fork. A heavy mute deadened them, awkward and stifling. For a few minutes they ate in silence, glancing up at each other then out the window at the river to their breakfasts. Finally frustrated Evelyn dropped her silverware with a loud clang and wiped her hands on her napkin. Startled Erik looked up at her, eyeing her curiously, slowly chewing on a bite of fruit. Exhaling a breath through her nose she stared at him piercingly.

"Why aren't you angry?" she asked heatedly in a concerned but angry tone. Erik set his utensils down and dabbed his mouth, trying to correlate his thoughts. Looking at her seriously he sat back and turned his fingers into a steeple shape against his lips. He made no smile or kind gesture but gazed directly at her with eyes that meant that this conversation was final about the subject.

"I am but not as much as you might think. Christine…is in the past. She is no longer my concern. She is married, in the hands of a rich family and a famous diva. What does she need from me, belle femme?"

"But what about what she insinuated? Aren't you furious? Doesn't it vous rendre fou(drive you mad) like it does me?"

"What she says or does, does not matter to me anymore, Evelyn. We are moving far, far away from them, all of them," he responded calmly. He stood and kneeled in front of her, next to her tray, a bit unsteady on the moving train. Grasping her hand he finally smiled reassuringly. "We can start over again. Away from our past and those who caused our pain. Don't worry about it. I am fine, ma petite cherie."

"Are you sure? Are you really okay? You're not just saying that, are you?" Evelyn inquired concernedly, eyeing him thoughtfully. Erik laughed at her paternal face and nodded.

"Perfectly. When I spoke to her I was scared, oui, scared of our past. But it vanished. When I realized that she truly was starting a family it came to me that she is just a ghost of pain that will fade and amazingly faster than I thought possible. She does not matter to me anymore. I wish her the best but I do not want to be in her life or for her to be in mine," he assured her again, getting up to sit in his seat when he had finished. He grinned playfully. "And the one who I do want in my life has strawberry juice on her face."

For a good two seconds Evelyn remained silent, staring at him in shock. Reaching up she patted her cheeks and lips, somehow managing to miss the stain completely. Chuckling Erik reached across the space to touch her. With a finger he ran it over her bottom lip before wiping off the liquid. Evelyn made a pout when he held it up to her view. He rubbed it off with a napkin, casting a taunting look at her.

"And here I was: thinking you were a femme(lady)," he tsked teasingly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Making a mess of that sour-puckered face. What a shame."

She gave a very indignant gasp, folding her arms over her chest with a childish glower.

"Erik, you are awful!"

"Mais non(my no)! I spoil you! I could be so much crueler to such a peevish, petite fille(girl)," he taunted easily, making an emphasis on 'fille'. She blushed in cute fury, her mouth falling open.

"I am not a girl! I turned twenty only last year," she retorted fussily, leaning forward to prove her point. The smile slowly faded from Erik's face and he took on a sad look. He actually looked quite pale as he stared at her, horrified.

Evelyn's beginning anger at being so teased disappeared instantly. An icy tongue of worry flickered through her. She loosened her arms and eased her frown into a worried crease.

"Erik? What's wrong? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry. Are you okay?" she asked in concern, immediately feeling apologetic and mentally beating her head in. He licked his suddenly dry lips and smiled sheepishly.

"I'm afraid I forgot about your birthday, ma cher."

At first Evelyn merely stared at him in dumb disbelief. A relieved smile took her face and she laughed heartily. She flicked her hand in dismissal. Instantly Erik felt better, smiling back at her amazed guffaws.

"Oh, its alright. Going with you to Munich is such a great present already. Mon dieu, you had me so scared!" she said with another laugh, her eyes leaking a bit. Sitting back he ran a hand over his brow and looked out the window.

"We'll have to stay in Troyes over night. The next train doesn't leave until ten tomorrow morning," he muttered tiredly, stifling a yawn with the back his hand. He set his plate aside and rested his head back against the seat.

Evelyn waited until his blue eyes slid shut before she attempted to stand. Quietly she rose, steadying herself on the window pane, one hand clasping her throw blanket. Shakily she walked the few feet to plop on the spot next to him. Erik shot up from his relaxed position to stare at her in berating concern and a little caring anger.

"Ma Evelyn, you shouldn't have stood yet," he scolded with a small scowl. She smiled at him sweetly, like a child avoiding punishment, then nestled under one of his arms.

"Sorry, but I'm tired and I don't like sleeping alone anymore," she explained simply, tucking the blanket about hers and his thighs. Erik blushed slightly when her feather light touches brushed against his clothed leg. She looked up at him, apparently a little red from the same thing, his masked cheek facing her.

Snuggling against him she rested her head on his shoulder and put a hand to his chest to share her own warmth. Instantly Erik twirled her longer red locks between his musician's fingers. Her hair had grown quite a bit, now hanging about her shoulders, the tips brushing a little past. Contentedly he watched her close her eyes and her breathing become even. Slowly he began to fall asleep, lulled by the train, the rain and the feeling of her little heart beating against him.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled.

"Sing for me?"

"Bien entendu(of course)."


	18. Chapter 18

-1When they had finally arrived in Troyes it was late, the dark impenetrable outside the carriage windows. A single lantern burned, swinging to and fro as the horse drawn buggy ran down the dirt road, making shadows shift and contrasts change. Once in a while they heard the driver yell out to the horses to slow or speed but beyond that and the clattering hooves there was no noise.

Evelyn sat staring out the window at the black wall of night, thinking more than seeing. Her tired mind could hardly formulate any sort of coherent thoughts but it was fun to let it ramble on. The cold had forced her to wear a bonnet, covering her ears and warming her head.

Next to her a very frustrated Erik was attempting to get some form of sleep on this horrid ride. Unaccustomed to such rough going he was having a difficult time finding a perch to rest his head against or maintain stability to sleep. Every time he thought he found a suitable niche to settle his head into the carriage would bump and he would slip loose, half asleep.

Finally he could take no more. In several languages Evelyn never heard of he swore and ranted, once slamming his fist against the door in anger. She watched in bemused, cautious humor, trying hard not to smile despite how he unnerved her when he became upset.

"Erik! S'apaiser(Calm down)!" she shouted finally, resting a gloved hand on his forearm. Erik whirled to look at her. Slowly he felt the anger and frustration at the damn contraption he rode in drain, replaced by self-chastisement.

"Sorry. I'm just so tired," he explained wearily, rubbing his eyes with the soothing leather of his gloves. Evelyn smiled sympathetically and nudged his arm.

"Come ici(here). Lie in my lap," she instructed, holding open her arms, waiting. Erik eyed her in nervous embarrassment before complying, hesitantly laying his head upon the folds of her skirt. He felt the rough material of her wool petticoat against the back of his head. To his discomfort he found that his mask was hindering how he laid.

"Evelyn? I need to take of my mask so I can lie easier. Would you look away for a moment?" he asked warily. For a moment or two he didn't hear anything from her. He was almost afraid she would ask to see his face finally. Instead he felt a soft glove tip brush a couple of strands from his face.

"Oui, naturellement(certainly). Tell me when," she replied easily. Erik glanced up to check and see if she had really looked away to find her face turned to the window and her eyes screwed shut. Quickly he snatched off the mask, relishing the cool air that flowed over the sensitive skin of the right side of his face. Despite the great feeling of freedom from his mask, Erik quickly laid the malformed flesh against her skirt, hiding it again but in more comfortable terms.

Giving Evelyn a silent whisper Erik eased the stiff muscles in his neck and shoulders, relaxing as her fingertips brushed through his hair. He sighed sleepily and nestled into the warm skirt, letting his eyes droop shut and his mind drift. Lying on the semi-comfortable seat and Evelyn's warm and restive legs, he found himself falling asleep faster than he really thought possible.

Smiling softly down at Erik she took off her gloves quietly to continue stroking his temple and brow, dragging her nails through his fine hair. She watched in mild fascination as his muscles twitched and relaxed in his neck and face. If she didn't know better she could have sworn he was smiling slightly as he slept.

Why did he want her with him? Evelyn wondered faintly. Beyond protecting her, why did he insist on her coming with him? Why did he even want to guard her anyway? Didn't he hear her in the hospital last year? She couldn't understand why he cared for her so much. She was tainted and stained, no angel or saint, and yet he seemed so happy. That really was what she wanted but she wished she knew how she made him so glad.

Evelyn watched him thoughtfully, pondering her own feelings for a while. She felt so warm around him, so protected and wanted. All she ever wanted to do for him was make him smile. With him, she no longer feared men or being close to someone. It took her months but she knew now that Erik would never, ever hurt her on purpose.

Running a fingertip from his brow down his cheek to his lips Evelyn felt herself completely awaken, her senses heightened as she played her nail along the smooth, tempting lines. Erik's eyes tightened then eased when she stopped, afraid to wake him.

Suddenly the man grunted in his sleep and moved. He rolled a bit slightly, turning to face the ceiling, slowly revealing his whole countenance. Evelyn's eyes slammed shut, knowing she shouldn't see the right side of his hidden head. Erik continued to breathe softly, unstirred completely.

She couldn't stand it! She promised him but she so desperately wanted to see him fully, for all he was. When she couldn't resist any longer Evelyn swallowed hard and cracked open her eyes. Even though she had plenty warning of what lay under his mask the woman felt instant tears.

Under the swinging lamplight she could see his face fully. There was no eyebrow over the sleeping eye. A ridge of malformed skin danced along his cheekbone. The flesh was slightly pinkish and mottled, seeming infinitely sensitive. The deformation ran beyond his ear to cut into his hairline. The ear didn't seem to have completely disconnected itself from the rest of the head and a lump seemed to grow next to it. Erik's expression was soft and peaceful, she could tell on both sides of his face. His slightly opened lips were almost perfect however, childish seeming. as they moved in deep sleep.

Trembling slightly Evelyn felt no disgust or horror what so ever at the sight. Tears fell from her eyes, splattering in his hair and shirt, as she put her hands to her mouth, stifling a sharp sob. Leaning over him a bit she placed a shaky kiss to his forehead, her lips touching both smooth and jagged skin.

"Oh, ma poor, poor Erik!" she breathed, running her fingers over his hair, wanting nothing more than to hold him to her and cry. He was so beautiful! Seeing him so peaceful and whole before her made her sob quietly, almost smiling. He might not know it but he was the strongest man she had ever met. And now she knew without a doubt how she felt as she looked upon him.

"Je t'aime(I love you)," she whispered in revelation, grinning slightly as she cried. Trying hard not to laugh in happiness of her final acceptance, Evelyn put a hand to the sides of his face, absolutely relishing the feel of his deformed skin in her palms. Breathing very faintly, she leaned over and put a very light and shy kiss upon his sleeping lips.

"Why did this happen to you? Mon dieu, je t'adore(I worship you), " Evelyn murmured quietly. Resting back she let herself cry for a little longer for her unfortunate guardian, for the cruelties God placed on such a good man. Exhausted from tears and the long trip, she slipped into sleep, her head tipped against the seat, one hand on Erik's chest, the other lying by her side.

As soon as the woman fell asleep the man in her lap opened his blue eyes fully. Erik stared up at her, not moving, pondering her thoroughly, his brow creased a little. As long as he had been alive he never slept too soundly, having to scratch for survival every minute. Shivers had to be held back when Evelyn's fingers glided over his skin.

Purposely Erik had moved so that his face was visible, wanting to hear her reaction. It made him upset to hear her crying, thinking her to be horrified at what lay in her lap. He was about to sit up and move away when he felt hands on his face, wetted by salty tears, touching the tender skin and tickling it. His heart leaped up his throat, choking him completely, even though he managed to keep his expression placid, when she kissed his forehead.

Nothing so sweet and meaningful had ever came to him so suddenly as that. It was so simple but it felt so wonderful to feel her lips against the untouched skin of his face. Just when he thought he could not feel more euphoria of joy he heard her breathe out his name, choking on tears.

Evelyn's confession of love to him had sent fire up his nerves, making him want to jump up and embrace her. He almost did before she cupped his face. Curiously he wondered what she was doing, excited to know and to find out. A light breeze blew over his nose and lips before the tiny feeling of warm, tear-stricken flesh pressed against his lips.

Erik wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss she gave him, grab her and crush her in his needy grasp. Before he could really react Evelyn pulled away, her breath hitching. Watching her now, Erik smiled warmly. He gently reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear in her bonnet.

"Je t'aime, ma cher," he replied to her sweet sleeping face, brushing his fingers over her lips, making her twitch slightly. It was true, completely and honestly. Evelyn had been there for him when he talked with her about his pains, discussing his former emotions for Christine without fear. She listened and offered her consolation to the man, smiling gently and squeezing his hand.

Evelyn made him feel like a normal man. Not an angel, not a ghost, not a cursed demon. Just a human being with feelings and pains, nothing more and nothing less. Talented, she assured, but just like anyone else. And now hearing her words after seeing his face, he knew that she was honest in her words.

Smiling in happiness, Erik thought of what to do about this revelation, staying where he was, unable to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

-1"S'il vous plaît(please) set the bags there," Erik instructed as the innkeeper walked in after them, lugging their suitcases. He was an older man, still supple enough for his job but not kind enough to not mumble. Erik held Evelyn in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, hands curled against his chest. Her eyes blinked several times, dozing.

The innkeeper left with a grumble about late comers to his hotel. When the door closed Erik set her on a large bed that stood in the middle of the room. It had a low ceiling but had a wide spacious area with plenty of room to move about around furniture. The bed had wrought iron curves, poles reaching up with vine-wrapped hollow orbs, all painted an ebony color. The blankets were a clean white, smelling of the wind and the sweet flowers that had blown against it when they had been drying that morning. A white, dressing robe lay across the foot of the bed, cotton and comfortable.

A vanity sat next to a large window that faced the mountains, moving north from Troyes that glittered a good couple miles away. The tops were still capped in snow, glowing in the moonlight now that the earlier clouds had dispersed. Upon the vanity were combs and lotions, compliments of the lodge. A long, oval mirror hung above the vanity, reflecting the orange lamp light. A chaise chair, a deep blood of color, lay against the wall, across from the bed, inviting anyone to sit. In the corner on the other side of the window sat a two-person wooden dining table, its top adorned with a bouquet of roses and an assortment of seductive wildflowers.

Next to the front door was another that led into a bathroom and a closet, closed for the night. As soon as Erik set Evelyn down, she shivered from the lack of body heat and sat up, blinking in confusion. Sitting on the chaise, he unlaced his shoes, taking a sigh as his sock-shod feet were released from its confines.

Tiredly, Evelyn fumbled with her bonnet, almost ripping one of the strings. Taking it off she tossed it on the ground, ruffled her red hair then flopped back on the bed, nestling into the pillows. A content murmur escaped her as she closed her eyes.

Smirking at her Erik stood up to sit at her feet. Evelyn choked a smile when he took off her slippers, dropping them next to the bed, pausing a moment to rub her cold toes.

"Hmm, you're right. You do spoil me," she giggled, opening one eye at him. Erik nodded and shook a finger at her.

"Oui, I do. Now sit up so we can get your petticoat off. You'll hurt tomorrow if you sleep in it," he ordered, taking one of her arms and pulling her up. Evelyn groaned in annoyance and let her head hang limply back as he sat her up. Deciding to be rotten she let herself become like a rag doll, falling forward into his lap. When he tried to upright her she fell to the side to the bed, laughing.

"Zut(damn it)! You are so irritating at times! Sit up!" Erik growled in frustration, futilely trying to make her cooperate. Another muffled giggle came from her hidden face.

"Nu-uh."

Letting go Erik scowled peevishly. With a bit of roughness he poked her in the side, tickling her harshly. Evelyn screamed in outrage then in play, rolling over and trying to force his hands away. Unfortunately the man was much stronger than she and was able to easily grab her wrists and pin them above her head. Evelyn pouted up at him like a child who lost a game, mostly unaware that he was half-lying on her, weighting her to the bed.

"You don't play fair."

"Never have."

"Devoir avoir honte(shame on you), brat."

"Not as much of a brat as you. You are the star of batty impishness."

Evelyn's mouth twisted in an attempt to think of a come back, trying to think of one that won't hurt him too much. Giving up she sighed and rolled her eyes in resignation.

"One tries. Alright, you win. Let me up."

"What if I don't want to?" Erik instantly replied, not really thinking before speaking. Evelyn blushed furiously and gave him a light glare.

"Well then I guess there's nothing I can do," she replied candidly, closing her eyes and pretending to snore slightly. Erik grinned at her playfulness, making himself more comfortable, content in watching her attempt at sleep. As he gazed at her he softened his smile and gently leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose.

Evelyn's eyes opened wide when he pulled back, watching him in surprise and sudden panic. Her first thought was that he had heard her in the carriage. And upon looking into his grey-blue eyes she realized she was correct. A frown crossed her face and she opened her mouth.

"Erik, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have-" she began to apologize, feeling awful for breaking her promise. Erik grabbed her tiny wrists in one hand, keeping them were they were. With his other he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. Evelyn continued to stare at him in self-chastisement, trying hard not to redden at the feeling of his finger.

Slowly Erik shook his head, a small smile on his face, as he began to trace the pad of his finger around the seam of her lips. With one hand he pulled off his mask, revealing himself to her completely. Before she could say anything more in protest, Erik leaned in and softly kissed her, timid and shy. His heart was thundering in hopeful terror in his chest, thudding against her.

Evelyn gave a tiny squeak of surprise before her own eyes closed and she reacted to the bashful kiss, meekly. Electricity shot through her veins, exciting every nerve to come alive. She felt the blankets, the feel of his hand on her wrists, his weight on her body and the sweet feel of his lips on hers as if it were the first time.

Already knowing the game of a kiss Evelyn opened her mouth slightly in invitation. For a moment Erik did nothing but then he nervously excepted, dipping his tongue between her soft lips to deep the kiss. Her own rose up to meet his, prodding and tasting, suckling slightly on the tip. Erik moaned at the feeling, knowing it was forged of love and not bribery.

"Evelyn, I-" he began, pulling away from her, trying to speak what he felt. Despite his wishes she dragged him into another melting kiss, wrenching her hands free to grasp his head and roam his brown hair and tug in need.

"I know. Mon dieu, I know," she moaned breathily, placing staccato kisses on his lips, unable to get enough of him. Erik cupped her face, brushing his thumbs along her cheeks. At first the kiss was chaste and sweet but then it started to fire into a burning needing embrace.

Timidly, Evelyn let her hands wander down from his hair to his strong neck, feeling it move as he kissed her deeply, pressing her into the bed. Loving the feeling of his hot skin under her cool palms she slid them under his shirt and trailed them along his muscled shoulders, grasping and massaging. Erik groaned, in absolute heaven as her fingers ran over his skin, exciting the nerve ends and making him shudder.

Nibbling on his lower lip Evelyn sighed before pulling away to look into his softly shining eyes. They were wet with slight tears, glittering in love. Water welled in her own as she gazed up at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

Leaning upwards she kissed his cheek, his nose, forehead, lips before moving to his right side. Stroking the ridged flesh with her fingers she followed after with tiny, adoring kisses, feather light and reverent.

"I love this," she whispered, brushing her lips by his ear, her breath hot and tickling. Erik slid his arms about her, under her shoulder blades, drawing her small body close to his, desperate to be as together as possible.

"Love what?" he moaned lowly, shuddering at the feel of her breath enhancing the senses of his sensitive skin.

"I love the feeling of you. It reminds me of how beautiful you are," she replied honestly, kissing his malformed cheek again. Abruptly Erik sat up on his elbows, looking down at her almost angrily.

"Beautiful? Evelyn, do not mock me," he muttered wearily, moving to leave her. Evelyn snatched his linen shirt in her hands, clutching it tightly and anchoring him against her. He looked to find her green eyes filled with tears again. Her soft, pink bruised lips trembled in a tiny smile.

"I'm not. I never would. To me you are the most handsome, caring and strongest man I have ever known. You're not an ange(angel) or a monstre. I wouldn't want you to be; not ever. You have suffered and triumphed in situations most would crumble in. Je t'aime (I love you) for that and je t'adore (I worship you) for seeing me as something more than a killer," she explained fiercely at first, letting her voice drop to a sweet confession. Streams of tears fell down the side of her eyes, wetting her hair.

"You are no killer, mon amour. There is no sin in loving someone. You are a woman who makes mistakes like everyone else but that does not mean you should condemn yourself to a life without passion. Evelyn, you are my savior. And je t'aime for your kindness," he replied gently, brushing a tear away with the palm of his thumb. She smiled up at him, her eyes watered in relief. Her chest shook in laughs even though she cried all the harder.

Sitting up he pulled her into his lap, cuddling her against him, murmuring into her ears as she sobbed choking laughs. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest and flutter about the room like a crazed bird or a retarded fly. He caught a chuckle in his throat at the odd comparison. She always made him think of silly things and he found himself loving it.

Kissing the top of her head Erik gathered her closer, enjoying the feel of her tiny hand against his chest, tickling his pounding heart. Evelyn abruptly stopped crying, pulling away slightly to look up at him. With a smile she kissed him again, sweetly and softly this time. Her eyes were puffy from crying but she seemed to glow in tired contentment.

"Erik, mon amour. Its late and we really have to get some sort of sleep," she explained, resting her head against his shoulder, still gazing up at him. "You can take my petticoat off now. It hurts."

Erik laughed and picked her up easily to set her on the bed. Fumbling with the tiny, pearl buttons he pulled off the harsh material, revealing her faded blue cotton blouse and brown woolen skirt. He turned away to yank back the covers of the bed, settling the sheets. Almost without thought he grabbed the mask again and pressed it to his face. He was so accustomed to having the damn thing on that to not have it was strange and irritating. When he looked back he choked on his tongue in surprise.

Evelyn had taken off her shirt and had changed into her night gown, the ends bunched about her waist for the moment. The gauzy material showed the curves of her shoulder blades, glowing a pink under the faint white; the color of her skin. He watched mutely as she struggled with her almost useless legs to remove her skirt. Kicking it away she quickly shuffled the dress folds down her waist and thighs, revealing almost nothing.

Ruffling her hair Evelyn then grabbed the cotton robe at the foot of the bed, slipping her unclad arms through the sleeves. Her nightgown had slightly puffed sleeves that hung about the upper arms and a square cut collar. Tying it shut she finally pushed herself up and over the mound of blankets to land on the white sheets. The movement caused the hem of her bodice to tighten and shift lower.

Erik found himself staring at the soft pink of her skin and the darker blush on her cheeks. Her red hair reflected the lamp light and in her green eyes as she pulled the covers over her stomach. Coming closer he unbuttoned his jacket and vest, quickly shuffling out of them to stand in his white linen shirt.

Leaning on the bed mattress with a knee he intently gazed at her, at the dark of her eyelashes, the gentle white of her fingernails and the kiss-bruised pink lips. The woman looked up at him, almost timidly.

Erik seemed fierce as he stood there, his shirt half-open, revealing his strong, lightly dusted chest. His neck and shoulder muscles rippled as he leaned forward to support himself with one hand and a knee. The way his grey-blue eyes raged in some internal fire and thirst made her shudder and grow goose-pimples. Her stomach began to feel queasy when his strong, musician fingers reached out to brush her hair from her brow. The mere size and strength of his hand made her feel terribly small and open to him. The warmth of his skin burned her as he flitted down her cheek to her neck.

The bed shifted as he came to sit on the bed fully, still fixedly watching his hand and her tightened throat as he touched the tender flesh. Evelyn's breathing came in staggered, almost frightened gasps, when his curious fingernails dragged down to the swell of her breasts, timidly touching the bare skin.

Startled by his bold move, Evelyn gasped and found herself reaching up. Erik's eyes flickered up to her face in sudden fear as her hand glided over his cold porcelain mask, scratching the nails along the surface. She smiled reassuringly, sitting up slightly and leaning forward.

"You don't need to hide from me anymore, ma Erik. Je t'aime," she reminded him, before gently prying the prison from his face. Cool air blew over the deformed skin as the mask was removed, revealing his full face to the light again. The way her eyes studied him made him feel uneasy and ashamed.

Evelyn gripped his hand with her smaller ones with a gentle smile. Sliding down a bit in bed she let go to pat the spot next to her.

"Go to sleep."

Erik buried his legs into the crisp, cool sheets, glad for his socks and her body warmth. As soon as he settled against the pillow she scooted over and nestled in the nook of his shoulder, resting her cheek on his shoulder. His hand curled over slightly to play in her hair, the nails dragging lightly over the skin. Evelyn murmured in gratitude and nuzzled against his chest, inhaling his smell. Erik smiled at her, placing a kiss on her forehead before laying back and closing his eyes.

"Bonne nuit(good night), mon amour."


	20. Chapter 20

-1He needed to get up; the train was leaving in a little over an hour. The next one didn't leave for a good month. But he really didn't want to move. If he had his way they'd lie there forever in the sunlight that streamed through the window. A maid must have came in for there was a platter of almost cold breakfast on the table and fresh flowers. For a while he contemplated what the maid must have seen.

A young woman, thin and frail seeming, sleeping next to a man with half a face. Erik looked down at Evelyn's mess of red hair. Strands of it moved as she breathed sleepily. Her lips were parted slightly, murmuring quietly, indicating that she was slowly coming to. In the warm, spring light her skin looked to have a fresher glow, the tiny, soft hairs highlighted and shining gold on the curves. An arm was languidly curled over his chest, her cheek against his shoulder and her body curved up next to him.

Amusedly Erik watched as she drew in a long breath, her eyelashes fluttering and lids tightening. Shifting in her sleep Evelyn opened her eyes finally, sleepily dazing at him. He smiled and kissed her nose. Smiling back lightly she stretched, arching her back and popping a couple of joints, her torso and chest pressing against him.

"Good morning," he murmured, pulling his arm from under her to sit up. Evelyn gave a sleepy, 'Mm-hmm', and sat up, her arms reaching up and out. Abruptly she collapsed inward and fell back on the bed. Erik smirked and reached over to give a lock of her hair a delicate yank.

"We need to get ready. The train leaves soon. C'mon," he ordered seriously, grinning at her pout. Crossing her arms over her chest she glowered.

"I'm comfortable, though," she whined. Erik snatched the blankets and tore them away from both him and her. Evelyn's gown had ruffled up to her thighs and she scrambled to yank it down, her cheeks a flaming red. Squeaking his name, she then curled up into a ball, completely covered, and fell to the side into the pillows.

"You're awful!" she complained into the pillow she buried her face into. Erik shrugged and stood up, feeling his head spin a bit in dizziness. Stretching he groaned and cracked his neck.

"I'll run you a bath. You need to hurry though," he said, sluggishly walking over to the bathroom. Evelyn rolled over to watch him, her little hands balled up next to her face.

"I can't hurry, Erik."

"You shall have to…unless you want me to help you with it," he threatened, half-seriously, forcing his hair back from his face. He froze to realize he still didn't have his mask on. Shrugging it off he opened the bathroom door. Turning on the taps to a mild scorch he tested it with his palm. Adding in soap to the quickly accumulating water he laid out a bathrobe for her.

"Evelyn, I…"he came back into the main room to stare. Evelyn stood next to the bed, her quaking legs barely supporting her. Her eyes were trained on her feet, making sure they were not turning inwards or outwards. Erik watched as she took a small shaking step then another. A grin spread on her face, a smile of triumph.

For some inexplicable reason Erik suddenly found himself afraid. A flutter of terror ran through him as he watched her walk. What if once she was well, she'd take those little legs and run far from him? An inane urge yelled at him to put her back in her wheelchair, just to make sure she couldn't leave him ever. Almost immediately afterwards a wave of guilt hit him. He had no right to condemn her to a prison like that. She needed to be outside, running and alive…for however long she had left to live.

"It's rude to stare, mon amour."

Erik's blue eyes focused slowly on her, spotting her closer, supporting herself on the wall. He smiled softly and apologetically. Walking over he scooped her up, easily lifting her slight weight. He inwardly flinched at how light she had become since the accident.

Evelyn buried her face into his chest, sighing quietly, as he brought her into the bathroom. Setting her down on the stool, Erik tried desperately to hide the sadness he felt. He felt so angry at God for cursing her with her illness and terribly miserable over her slipping life. At least she seemed content.

'Ma cher, how long did you say the illness…" he cut off, unable to finish the question. Evelyn stared at him, confused, before a look of surprise stole her wan features. Fumbling with her fingers over the ribbon of her gown she frowned, her face turned towards the ground.

"I was told I should not live beyond twenty-five. It might be more or less," she replied quietly, hoping he would not worry. Erik felt his throat constrict and his heart swell to an unnatural size. Kneeling down in front of her he cupped her cheek and forced her eyes to meet his sorrowful gaze.

Evelyn studied his frown and the way his blue-grey welled with crystalline tears, making them shine almost unnaturally in the warm bathroom light. His lips kept trying to form a smile that just didn't want to be born, just didn't want to lie to her. She felt her own lower lip turn and quake before she pulled him against her chest, holding him close so he could hear her heart.

Erik wrapped his arms about her waist, his ear pillowed on her breasts, her heart singing quietly to him. Tears ran slightly, wetting only the corners of his eyes as he tightened his grips, feeling sorrow overwhelm him. Evelyn's shaking fingers ran through his brown hair, soothing yet upsetting his mind more. It should be him comforting her but he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

The very idea of her death was extreme torture to his previously love-deprived soul. How could he let her slip away now that he had her fully to himself? How could he live now that he knew that there was a person in the world that did love him? How could he live without her?

He knew it was selfish; these thoughts. But he could not stop them. He didn't want to give her up to God; he didn't want her to move on to heaven and leave him here. He wanted her happy, yes, but more than anything he wanted her with him. It was unfair that she must die so young. Unfair and cruel!

Evelyn murmured to him how much she loved him, how much he meant to her, trying her hardest to calm him. Long ago she had excepted her fate. She knew it was coming and she hadn't been afraid. But now she felt very, very frightened. What was to happen to Erik when she died? How could she leave him? Suddenly she finally found herself angry at God. How dare he take her away from such a lonely man?

Pulling away, Evelyn cupped Erik's face in her hands, her tearing eyes studying his face, the silvery streamed, tousled brown hair and wonderfully sad blue eyes. She brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones, loving the contrast of smooth and ridged skin of each side. Pressing a kiss to his forehead she choked a sob in her throat.

"Erik, ma dear Erik, I love you. Je t'adore. Je t'aime, a million times over. Please, please, help me make my life worth living while I can," she whispered delicately, before kissing him with salty-wet lips.

Erik responded, forcing himself to calm down and pull away. Brushing her hair from her face he smiled at her.

"I will. I will make sure you see as much as you can as soon as you are well," he promised fiercely, kissing her forehead. Gathering her hands in his he kissed the backs of them then squeezed them slightly.

"You will live a life with amour. You deserve that much."


	21. Chapter 21

-1"How much longer is until we get home, ma cher Erik?" Evelyn asked excitedly, peering out the window of the carriage as it bumbled along the cobbled streets of Munich. Outside, people wandered about, some with shopping bags and carts, others were seeing the sights which included many zoos, shops, gardens and the like. Ladies with carousals and bright dresses walked with gentlemen in suits like the workhouse maids and cooks. Every building they passed were brightly colored and towering.

Arches housed sculpture gardens and studios filled with art. Rising to the sky like some great monarch was the clock tower, huge and majestic compared to the smaller, gamboling blocks. As she watched the clock struck eleven o'clock and tiny doors under and to the side of the gargantuan face opened. Life sized wooden statues came out on their metal rails, twirling and moving in a dance to the clock's chimes.

Utterly fascinated by the whimsical landscape and bright city, Evelyn practically leaned out the window, trying desperately to see every detail. Erik sat back, hidden in the corner of the carriage, away from the windows, his mask on and fedora pulled low. The last thing he wished for was for anyone to spot him yet.

"We will be there within the hour. The mansion is right beyond the limits of the city. S'il te plaît (please), sit back, ma petite fille, you are worrying me," Erik asked imploringly, indicating the way she was standing and hanging out into the streets.

Evelyn looked back inside at him, her midriff resting against the sill, jutted out of the fast-moving carriage. Underneath a pale green bonnet her red hair shifted as the wind blew, smelling of perfume, flowers and the bakery shops that lines the streets. Settling inside she smoothed out the wrinkles in her taffeta emerald dress.

"How big is our home, Erik?" she asked curiously, folding her white gloved hands in her lap, attempting to force herself to be calm. For a moment he thought, running a hand over his cleanly shaved chin.

He wore a dark blue vest over a white linen shirt, finished with a stylish black tie that streaked down to disappear into his clothing. With his nicely combed dark hair was his gleaming half-mask, pearly white from the sunshine that seeped into the window. Topping it off was a light fedora, covering the upper part of his face. Evelyn hid a frown under a patient smile. She really hoped he wouldn't wear that damned mask in the house.

"There are eighteen rooms, three parlors, a large dining room and a private one, a kitchen and a large veranda that faces a lovely lake in the back. It was all in the papers I received," he explained slowly, knowing there was something he had forgotten to mention. After a moment or two it struck him. "Oh, and they just recently built a gazebo within the gardens. I requested it for you, Evelyn, almost two months ago. We have a staff of ten and a working cook. There's so much more as well."

Evelyn nodded mutely, gazing out the window at the passing city. She felt somewhat disappointed. Having grown up in mansions and castles all her life, she was none too surprised. But it seemed too close to the life she had before and that was the last thing she wanted. Fumbling for a few minutes with her thoughts she finally cleared her throat.

"Erik? Don't you think that it might be…well…a little excessive?"

He stared at her in confusion and horror. Had he done wrong in having the gazebo made? Feeling a little foolish, he ran a hand over his hair, trying to think of what to say.

"I-I, uh, well, I just thought you might like it. Considering you always lived in luxurious homes, I thought you might want that again instead of a little cottage," he replied, suddenly unsure of himself and his actions. Evelyn looked at him with sincere apologies and bowed her head.

"I'm sorry, mon amour. I hadn't meant to upset you. Really, I hadn't. It's just that…do we really need all that?" she asked exasperatedly, standing quickly to sit next to him, gathering one of his gloved hands in hers. Peeling off the leather then her lace, she ran the pads of her fingers over the top of his palm. She peered up at him with a smile. "You know, I really don't need all that. I could care less if we lived in a shack! I just want you to be happy."

With a relieved smile, Erik kissed her forehead.

"I appreciate that, ma Evelyn. Believe me, when I say this: this mansion will make me excessively happy. For as long as I have remembered I have always had restrictions on where I could go and what I could do. I had my home under the opera but the stone there is so hard to express one's self with. This will open up an opportunity to have a home I can do anything with," he explained carefully, trying to express what it meant to him. It seemed a bit strange to hear but internally it felt right. "And now I have a wonderful woman to make this home a world of my own."

Evelyn smiled in content, her eyes shining. She gave his hand an understanding, loving squeeze.

"If it makes you happy, then it must be wonderful."

Settling next to him, she continued to chat lightly over all the extensive places she wanted to see in Munich. As she rambled on and on about needing to learn German and all the restaurants and so on and so forth, Erik paid intent attention on her fingers as they glided over his hand mindlessly. The almost non-existent touch tickled the hairs and raised the skin, sending electric shocks through his nerves to his heart and brain. He felt a sweltering fire within him, one that begged for him to get as close to Evelyn as he could. It made it even more difficult that she was so innocently unaware of what she was doing to him.

"The driver's slowing down. Is this it, Erik?" her excited voice broke through his desire-flamed trance, waking him and making him fumble with his words. Looking out the window he grinned and nodded.

"Yes, ma Evelyn. This is home."


	22. Chapter 22

-1A large mansion stood on a gently rising slope that stood before them, its proud roofs lifting up to the sky. Three stories high, it boasted beautiful white walls, clean and gleaming in the untainted light. Reaching up the tall walls was a lacework of English Ivy, turning it into a grand portrait of elaborate mazes. Earthly brown shingles crowned the head of the impressive buildings, dancing up and down the a-frames that held huge windows.

A sweeping drive came down to a modest iron fence that surrounded a good deal of land, trailing into the old forest and disappearing. Vines of honeysuckle laced around it, making it seem a wall rather than a thin, decorative fence. A large expanse of rich lawn wept down the front, proceeded by blushing rose bushes, their pink buds peeping to the spring air.

Stone steps led up to the front double doors. Pipes peeped up here and there, emitting smoke from the kitchen or boiler room, puffing light gray clouds spasmodically. Around the open expanse where the mansion stood was a tall wood of maples and willows, swaying musically in the wind, bordering the paved road they drove upon. Behind it all stood towering mountains, impressive and proud, gazing down at the mansion and Munich, which could be seen a mile or so away.

Evelyn gasped in absolute delight as she viewed her new home. Tears in her eyes she turned a tightly embraced Erik, whispering to him how wonderful it was and how wonderful he was. Stroking her back Erik smiled happily, glad that his love appreciated it as much as he did. Just by looking up at the mansion he felt his heart swell in joy.

This was how it was supposed to be. This was how he dreamed his life would be at its best. He was loved, he finally had a home and he had a real purpose in life. It was all he had ever wanted when he would sing to Christine. It was what he longed to tell her and share with her. But now, as he held Evelyn to him and listened to her praise, he realized that this was better than he could ever have expected.

The carriage pulled up the drive to park in front of the steps, coming to an easy halt. The driver waited as a servant rushed up from the house and opened the door for his new employer. Stepping out Erik reached in to pick up Evelyn, turning about so they could face their home together. Distantly he heard the carriage drive away to the stables and the butler welcome, 'Mrs. And Mr. Lorenzo'.

Giving a smile to Evelyn, Erik came up to the steps.

"Are you ready, mon amour?" he asked earnestly. When she grinned and nodded he began to ascend the stairs, loving the feel of her in his arms and the stone under his feet. When he reached the top the double doors were opened grandly, welcoming them in with a pleasant creak. The mansion was old but lovely and majestic, like a retired and dignified monarch.

A line of servants and maids stood lined up right inside, each silently waiting on the polished wooden floors. Directly in front of the door was a sweeping staircase of wood with burgundy carpeting. Overhead a modest chandelier hung, glittering its diamonds in the light and tinkling merrily. A Persian rug covered the floor of the entryway, accompanied by several coat racks.

After quick introductions were made Erik gave directions that all were to leave once dinner was made and set. They would need no help till the next morning. Evelyn's wheel chair was brought out and she was set in it for the time.

To the right of the door stood the largest parlor, one for entertaining guests. No doors adorned this room. Standing on a corner of the foundation, both walls were made of windows with rich, red curtains and gauzy white under sheets. Several Victorian couches were squared off in the center, along with a low lying table and several lamps. Potted plants stood along a mantelpiece that brooded to the left of the entry door. Along whatever wall was left were several paintings from Paris and a bust of a man half turned towards the door.

In the final wall was a sliding door with a lock that led to a smaller parlor. This one had been turned into a library and study. There was one window that faced the gardens, towering behind a mahogany desk. The surface of the desk was an assortment of papers, pens and sketchbooks. The two that were not window and not cut by the door were made into shelves with rows upon rows of books in many languages. They reached so high that a hooked ladder was attached to each side, going up to the ceiling. A bouquet stood near the window, comprised of daisies, sunflowers and baby's breath.

Back in the entry hall they wandered to the left which opened up into the final parlor. Again this one had no doors but stood as the medium one of the three. A large, shining, black piano occupied the center, with white keys and an untouched bench, all polished greatly. This room had three high narrow windows, too high up to touch without a ladder. They were of painted glass, one a light red, the other blue and the last a pinkish purple, all casting life-giving vigor to the room. Next to the piano stood a plush chair with a stool and a stand for music, accompanied by the violin Ghiraldio had given Evelyn.

Through the door behind the piano was the entertainment hall, or guest dining room. A gigantic, oak table raced down the center of the room, seating over thirty people, excluding the head chairs. Along the left wall was a enormous mirror, reflecting the room back to a similar mirror on the right. The table could be removed, Erik explained, and this could be a ball room. The vaulted ceilings were bare, which he planned on changing later once he got his paints.

Skipping the kitchen, the laundry room and other less important rooms, Erik brought her out to the back where a large sunroom was. Plants that had been imported months earlier grew vastly up the green-tinted glass walls, filtering the air with their exotic smells. A smaller table stood in the right corner with two intimate chairs where maids had begun setting china for dinner. To the left was a bed of pillows from India and rugs and blankets from Africa and Greece. Entirely for relaxation, reading or even napping, he explained. A large birdcage on a twisted and swaying stand stood nearby, its occupants, four finches, sang happily in the light.

Pushing Evelyn out a door opposite to the one to the house Erik took her out onto the veranda and into the sunlight. Made of wood it stood at least twenty feet out, half of which was perched over a clear, large tarn, supported by beams that disappeared into the water. Rails ran along the expanse except for the left far end which dropped to stairs. A paved path ran from there against the lake, up into the trees. The lake itself was rippling in the light wind and shining beautifully.

"You know what, mon amour?" Evelyn sighed dreamily as she gazed out upon the natural world, her breath almost utterly taken away.

"Hmm? What?"

"I think we've died and gone to heaven."


	23. Chapter 23

-1"That was a lovely dinner," Evelyn yawned, stretching back into the soft pillows of their bed. Dressed in a light blue silk nightgown she nestled back into the feather down, cool and crisp against her skin. Erik came in, closing the large door of their bedroom, still dressed in his day-time clothing, bearing a smile.

The large bed took up the center of the room, spreading ten feet across and twelve feet long, covered in a deep red suede blanket with cotton sheets. At the foot of the bed was a large fireplace, a muted fire spitting and crackling, sending ghosts out and lighting the room in a low glow. To the right of the bed was a large window, a seat built into the bottom of the sill, the light of the quarter moon floating through and streaming on the polished floor. Long, velvet curtains danced down the side. Against the wall was an oak dresser and a glass vanity with a backless chair. On the opposite side, near the door was a long chaise chair, black and inviting. Lovely red drapes hung about the head of the bed, half hiding Evelyn from Erik's view by the door.

"Oui, it was, ma Evelyn," he replied lowly, striding to the bed and settling by her legs. Immediately she sat up and grasped his mask, gently prying it off. With a playful, half-serious smile she leaned forward and planted a loving kiss on his lips.

"You are not to wear this mask around me when we are alone," she ordered firmly, setting it down on a bedside table. Erik rose an eyebrow at her, slightly surprised that she was directing him about. With a shrug he grasped the tie that held her evening robe and pulled it loose with a flick of the hand. Evelyn gasped and tried to close it, trying to cover her nightgown. Snatching her wrists, Erik bore her to the bed, half covering her with his weight.

"Then you cannot wear that robe," he returned tauntingly. Evelyn reddened and squirmed helplessly, only half-trying to get away. Taking hold of her wrists with one large hand he sat up enough to tug the robe open, his nails scratching along the blue silk.

She shuddered and limply let him drag it off her, revealing her low bust-cut and silk strapped shoulders. For a moment his intense blue eyes studied her bared shoulders. Over the last couple of months her body had thinned considerably, the pudgy curves smoothened and the skin paled considerably due to the confinement inside.

Evelyn whispered his name, quivering, when he raised a nervous hand to brush the tips of his fingers over the nape of her neck. Timidly he ran it over her tiny neck to the gentle slopes of her soft arms. He stopped when he noticed how shaky she had become, how she shivered and gasped for breath, how her green eyes had closed.

"Are you alright, mon amour?" he asked quietly, pulling his hand away. Evelyn drew in a tight breath and opened her eyes, dazedly focusing on him. His touch had raised goose pimples on her, heating her flesh and sending her heart into a frenzy. Slowly she reached up and brushed the loose hair from his malformed face, smiling slowly.

"Quite, ma Erik. Do that again."

Grinning in triumph Erik leaned down and kissed her deeply, his tongue immediately branding to hers and setting her nerves aflame. Giving a moan of surprise and heated desire Evelyn responded eagerly, her hands coming up and running through his thick brown hair.

Skirting his hand along her cheekbone he dragged it along her smooth neck, enjoying the feeling of her throbbing pulse against his fingertips. His cool palm ran over the curve of her shoulder, grasping at it in need. Evelyn arched up against him, pressing her pelvis tightly to him, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Through his trousers his length hardened considerably more, straining against the wool towards her.

"Evelyn," Erik groaned deeply in his throat, sitting up and pulling her with him. Supporting herself on her knees she quickly attacked the buttons of his vest, yanking free several and sending them flying to the wooden floor. He shrugged out of it quickly, throwing it over his shoulder before reaching about Evelyn to nimbly unlace her gown.

Whimpering as his hands opened her clothing she buried her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, inhaling his spicy scent deeply and nipping reverently. The pit of her womb contracted and yearned in a blazing heat for him. Shakily she undid the tiny pearl buttons, slowly revealing the toned muscles of his neck and chest. Pulling back she drew in a breath and took a hungry gaze at the small portion his exposed flesh.

Beads of sweat had risen on his skin, making it glisten slightly in the muted light from the fireplace. Erik's brown hair hung about his face and brushed the flesh of his strong shoulders, tousled and soft. Gazing up Evelyn lovingly studied the needy glaze in his blue eyes, the way he panted lightly from their passionate foreplay and how his tempting lips fell open, pink and bruised from kissing.

Gently pressing her lips to his she traced his strong jawbone with her fingers, slowing down the tempo of their love. It was his first time, she tried to remind herself. She had known the touch of a man but he had never experienced anything close to it. She owed him as much as to go slow.

Pulling back she unbuttoned his linen shirt, slowly sliding it off his shoulders, revealing them to her desiring eyes. Erik looked bashful and nervous, staring down at the rumpled covers instead of her, his eyes darting about demurely, the long lashes lowered. Yanking the shirt free from his pants Evelyn tossed it to the ground.

"Erik, mon amour, s'il te plaît, look at me," she whispered pleadingly. Timidly the man looked up at her, as frightened as a child. Smiling reassuringly Evelyn kissed him gently, lightly touching his chest. "Do not worry. Let me take care of you."

For a moment he gazed at her before swallowing hard and nodding shyly. Taking charge, Evelyn leaned forward and kissed the spot under the curve of his jaw, letting her lips feel the throb of his heartbeat. Erik shuddered when she brushed against his neck, nipping it softly and licking it.

Pushing him down into the pillows, she straddled his hips, allowing her silk nightgown to rise about her thighs. She felt him hard under her and could not resist rocking against him slightly. Erik sighed deeply and closed his eyes as her tiny hands ran over his chest and the light brown dusting of hair, tickling the nerves. He jumped when the fingers touched his nipples before roughly kneading the muscle underneath. Evelyn's kisses dragged from his neck to follow her hands, dancing over the skin and teasing delicately.

A low moan escaped him when her lips grazed one nipple, the wet pink tongue sliding out to test it. On their own his hands reached up and cupped her large, soft breasts through the silk, weighing them in his palms. Evelyn sighed as she nibbled and caressed him, one hand coming up to cover his, making it squeeze hard.

Suddenly Erik lashed out, grabbing hold of her light weight and swinging her underneath him. Pressing her into the bed he felt the spark of fire she ignited grow to an amazing blaze, overwhelming his senses. Kissing her roughly he allowed the beast he had felt growling inside him take over finally. The pressure had built up slowly and now that she had opened the gateway for him it came flowing forth into his actions.

Evelyn sighed breathily as Erik's hands grasped and rubbed her breasts, causing short pains to shoot up and increasing the fire that boiled in her stomach. Talented fingers pinched and rolled her nipples, forcing them to hard points that burned for attention. He suckled on her earlobe, making her writhe in pleasure. The fact he could cause her to groan and shift so easily in turn made him flame in desire.

Breathing shakily Erik took hold of the top of her gown, his eager hands ripping it off her quickly and exposing her fully to his eyes. They burned in predatory hunger as he gazed down at her, sitting up on his knees. Evelyn's nude chest heaved in heavy breaths of excitement, the area around the cherry nipples a light pink in contrast with the rest of her white flesh. A long curvaceous torso prided a tiny bellybutton and the broad, beckoning bow of her hips. The only mar he could detect was a wicked red scar, running along the bottom of her belly, either side of it dotted from the stitches. Between creamy thighs was a nest of dark red down, hiding her secret cave. Slender legs led down to small, beautiful feet with curled toes.

Reverently Erik settled on top of her, his hands gliding over the skin of her belly as his mouth lowered to a hard nipple. Curiously he reached his tongue out and lapped at the tiny bud, stopping when she whimpered and arched against him. Their hot skin touched, burning both of them in a seductive heat. Her hands ran over his hair to stroke the sweltering flesh of his shoulders and back, scratching lightly and raising red lines. She felt every inch of deliciously hardened length of his member pulsing against her stomach. Taking the sweet treasure before him into his hot mouth he bit gently and sucked, relishing the moans that escaped Evelyn's parted lips. Lathering spit upon her breast he circled the victim of his attention with his wet tongue, kneading the other breast harshly.

Evelyn breathed his name repeatedly, rising her knee to rest between his unfairly clothed thighs, pressing against his hardened length. Erik gave a groan of his own when she nudged him gently with her leg and released her nipple. Slipping free from her knee he dragged his tongue down her soft stomach and about her hip, kissing the skin delicately. With a guiding hand Erik eased her legs open, looking up at her to find her green eyes smiling. After receiving an encouraging nod he curiously let his fingers slide down through the curly hairs to meet a molten, wet heat.

Evelyn gave a sudden, loud moan, rising up slightly when he brushed a nub within her folds. Watching her carefully for pain he experimentally rubbed the spot again with two fingers. The parted lips opened wide and her eyes slammed shut at the intense feeling he produced. Learning quickly Erik hit the spot again, letting the tips of his fingers run down further, exploring the moist folds. They dipped into a deep, welcoming opening. The muscles contracted about them and Erik shuddered, thinking of how wonderful it would feel to have those thick walls close about him once they coupled.

"Erik…Erik…s'il te plaît, I cannot take this any longer. S'il te plaît, s'il te plaît," Evelyn whimpered, the need in her womb now so painful for release that she nearly cried. Unable to resist her plea he reached down and unbuckled his trousers but stopped. This was it; this was the final step in making her his forever. The threshold presented before him almost scared him in its finality. This was the point of no return he had so naively written and sung about. Now he was to cross finally.

Evelyn's quaking hand came down to cover his on the hem of his pants. Erik looked up to find her smiling tenderly and her eyes watered. Giving him a kiss she helped guide his clothing off, tugging them past his hips and revealing his large, pulsing organ.

"Je t'aime, Erik. Je t'aime and I promise I shall always," she said clearly, no confused passion fogging her voice despite the situation they hovered on the brink of. "Remember that there is no way you could ever hurt me."

"You are not afraid? What if I-"

"Erik, mon amour, there is nothing you can do wrong. Please, make love to me. Not just sex, love."

Her soothing words calmed him, giving him clarity for his next tremulous step. Resting between her open legs Erik took a deep breath and slid himself deeply into her. The sudden feeling of her hot, wet walls tighten about him nearly made him burst then and there. Gasping harshly he laid atop her, trying hard to control his rampaging heart. Evelyn shuddered under him, stroking his hair and face, kissing his neck and whispering loving words to him. She felt slight pain from below but it was overshadowed by the intense gratification that swarmed over her. Erik was larger than Louis or Laterr had been and he stretched her and filled her better than she ever imagined anyone would. His cock felt like hardened velvet, pulsing and alive within her.

Gaining his breath and strength Erik instinctively pushed in deeper, drawing a gasp from his lover. Pulling out to the tip he flexed his hips and jammed into her warm entrance again, eliciting a moan from them both. Evelyn's head tossed back and her lips parted in ecstasy as he gained momentum, slamming hard and fast into her over and over. She bucked wildly under him, her legs wrapping around his moving hips weakly, trying to meet up to him.

Erik groaned heavily, panting thickly as he moved, feeling his penis swelling and pressure building up rapidly inside him. He wanted to last longer, wanted never to stop, but his body couldn't take the pleasure it was so unused to. Forcing himself to continue on he slid an arm under her convulsing back and held on as he pumped into her hard. His free hand slid down to roll her hard bud between two fingers.

Screaming loudly in pure pleasure, Evelyn arched, her inner walls clamping down upon him, drawing him deeper into her, pulling him further and further in. Crying out gutturally Erik embraced her tightly against him, his hips jerking hard as he felt himself explode inside her in hot spurts. As he emptied his body moved still in thrusts, carrying them through the shattering orgasm.

Weakly Erik panted for breath and collapsed on top of Evelyn, still lodged deeply within her. He rested his cheek on her wet breast, listening to the hard and loud beating of her frantic heart. A shaky hand brushed through his sweaty hair, easing the quaking muscles in his brow. Evelyn felt their combined liquids spilling down her thighs and pool beneath her on the sheets.

Cold tears splashed her chest, causing her to focus on her lover. Erik looked up at her with sad, watery eyes, watching her as he cried softly.

"What is wrong, mon amour?" she whispered, quite out of breath. He smiled weakly and leaned up to kiss her lovingly.

"Nothing, I was just thinking of how lucky I am that a woman such as you loves me," he replied lowly, brushing his fingers over the large swell of a breast the lay near his head. Evelyn ran her hand over his brow, wiping away sweat and smiling gently.

"Of course I love you. Je t'aime so much that it might kill me. And I would die happy; I would die the luckiest woman in the world because a man such as you loves me," she laughed lightly, her form jiggling under him, the muscles in her womb moving about his half-soft member. Erik suddenly found himself intently watching the way her breasts wobbled as she laughed, glistening in sweat in the firelight.

Evelyn stopped abruptly and began to moan, her eyes half-closed. Immediately hardened again from her movements, Erik's cock sent pulsing jolts through her as he stretched her, planted deeply within her body, sending her already to a near orgasm. Her hands crept around to his firm bottom, attempting to pull him deeper into her. He groaned and shifted his hips, feeling the tip of his hard cock stroke a soft point near her womb, sending her into another frenzy, accompanied by loud moans.

Almost viciously, Evelyn put her hands to his shoulders and pushed him to the side to the bed with him sheathed tightly within her. Straddling him she rocked her hips, lifting up to slide down upon him, his length penetrating deeper than before.

"Mon dieu! Evelyn!" Erik growled in his thick, darkly seductive voice. Digging his fingers into her hips he forced her faster and harder upon him. She pressed down upon him, sucking him deeper, her hands behind her on his bent knees, jutting her breasts out. Moving his hands up to her breasts he cupped them as he thrust his hips in slow, powerful strokes. Through the first time he quickly learned what to do. Sitting up to clutch her close to him he ended up toppling over her, slamming into her canal, hard and even.

Slicked with sweat and the honey of their desire, he slid into her faster with more accuracy and speed than he had before. Evelyn cried out repeatedly, her hands grabbing him and forcing him to kiss her to stifle her screams of joy.

"Erik! Erik!" she mewled pleadingly. "S'il te plaît…oh, oui…Erik!"

"Oui, mon amour, scream my name. Scream to the heavens. I want you to scream in passion," he demanded gravelly, stilling himself within her, making her do exactly what he ordered. Bucking and straining against him she grasped her own sweaty hair, trying desperately to find release.

Two more fast and steady strokes and both went reeling over edge, Erik arched over her, his pelvis pressed as tightly as possible to her hips. Low grunts rumbled in his chest as he jerked, his penis spilling hot, consuming seed into her. The muscles in her womb tightened about him, drawing him so deep that he was hoping he'd never escape.

Evelyn screamed loudly, clutching the sheets and rising up against him, her wet skin meeting his. Erik lowered his head to her chest, his forehead resting on her heartbeat. His lean hips moved a couple more times, forcing them both into another earth shattering orgasm.

"Take everything. Take it all!" he yelled finally, falling heavily upon her. Evelyn fell limp under him, her breathing heavier than before and her gasps louder. Again he refused to pull out of her, wanting nothing more than to be locked deep inside her love.

Panting harshly, Erik kissed her neck and her lips, murmuring to her of how much he loved her and silently letting salty tears fall. Evelyn grinned somewhat dryly and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Je t'adore, my wonderful monster."


	24. Chapter 24

-1The sound of birds outside and the gentle lapping of the lake outside awoke him, soothing and lulling. His heavy blue eyes fought to open against the warmth and comfort the bed encased him in. The cozy late morning light came shining through the window to fall across their legs and upper bodies. Thankfully, the gauzy curtains around the bed filtered the sunlight, fogging it to a point that it was now bearable.

Heaving a sleepy, content sigh Erik rolled onto his back and stretched. For a moment he forgot where he was or who he was for that matter. Somehow he wasn't afraid of that idea however. Staring at the vaulted ceiling he dazed, groggily wondering for an idea of what was going on. A slight sigh to his side startled him.

Looking over he found Evelyn lying there and it all came rushing back to him. A small, silly smile crossed his face as he sat up on one elbow, the red blankets gathering about his waist. She lay on her side, back to him, gloriously nude in the fresh light. The sparse, soft hairs that covered her skin were highlighted gold and the pale texture of her flesh a rosy peach color. Mussed red hair fell over her shoulders and back, barely brushing below the nape of her neck.

Grinning in happiness, Erik ran his fingertips over the dip between her ribs and hips, brushing the gentle curve of her stomach. Evelyn shifted in her sleep, curling into herself and mumbling. The covers were promptly kicked off, revealing her entire back and long legs.

Tucking an arm over her waist Erik nuzzled the back of her neck, kissing it gently, trying to coax her awake. A sleepy protest rumbled from her before she looked over her shoulder into his blue eyes, blinking sleepily. Evelyn made a goofy grin before kissing the tip of his nose.

"Good morning, ma Erik"

"Morning."

Rolling over in his arms she snuggled against his chest, stretching her slightly stiff legs to twin them with his bare ones, pressing against him. Erik wrapped his arm about her and kissed her forehead. Evelyn twined her arms under them and brought them up to run them through his messy brown hair.

They laid like this for a while, contently falling asleep again, until Evelyn gave an amused snort. Erik pulled back to look at her in confusion.

"What?"

"We both really, really smell bad," she giggled, hiding her face in his firm shoulder, laughing a little. Erik paused and quietly sniffed to find her right. The smell of sweat, sex and morning breath hung about them like a cloud. He wrinkled his nose and nodded.

"And I'm hungry," he added, untangling himself from her limbs to sit up again. His body felt a little sore and overheated from the night's exertions. Evelyn got up on her elbows, her face coming into the brilliant morning light. Squinting at the window she glared then fell back upon the bed, grumbling.

"Damn light."

Erik laughed at her amusedly, pulling the red blankets off himself completely and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. A dizzy red fog covered his mind for a moment, sending him reeling back to lay on the bed, his head cushioned on Evelyn's legs. He heard her chuckle and felt her sit up.

"Come, lets take a bath," she offered, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before helping him sit. Opening his eyes he ran a hand through his dirty, wild hair, giving her a crooked grin. Pecking her on the cheek he stood up.

"I'll run the bath. Wait here, mon amour," Erik said, grabbing a black cotton robe that rested across the back of the chaise chair. Putting it on and tying it he trotted over to the bathroom, opening the gold handled door. Inside was a marble tub, built into the tiled floor, with silvery facets. A soft red carpet lay in front of it, inviting his somewhat cold feet. The bathroom was enormous and the tub was roughly the size of a small swimming pool with a shallow end of a foot and a half. As it stretched it deepened to five feet, already filled with steaming bathwater.

Erik shrugged, figuring a maid must have come through while they slept. On a Grecian stand was a bouquet of baby-flesh pink roses, tiny and abundant and large, yellow beauties in full bloom. Taking a good two dozen of the little flowers and a couple of the big ones he plucked the petals off, letting them drop into the hot, clear water.

"It's lovely," Evelyn breathed suddenly behind him. Erik jumped and turned to find her leaning against the door post, naked and shivering slightly. For a moment he stared at her, the morning light streaming from behind her into the gleaming room. He watched as she wobbled in, her hips jutted slightly from the sickly thinning she had suffered. Her flesh appeared thin and pale, almost like the marble the bath was made from.

Shaking loose his mildly depressing thoughts, Erik gave her a scolding look before coming up to scoop her up. Evelyn smiled sweetly at him, letting him carry her to the water. Gently he set her on the cold edge, wanting to snatch her up again when she gasped as her bare bottom touched the marble.

Guiding her into the almost scalding water, Erik let her slide away. Evelyn turned about, sitting in the tub with the water only about her bellybutton. Leaning back on her elbows she reclined, her eyes closed.

"Come in, mon amour," she murmured letting her head fall back, exposing her throat and letting her red hair dip into the pool. Erik stood up and went out to the hall, looking for any maids. Stopping one, he ordered for a breakfast to be ready when they came out. After locking the door he came to the bathroom again, bolting it shut as well.

Turning around he found Evelyn resting with her head on the edge, the rest of her body limply floating. One of her hands rested on her lower belly under the water, stroking the vivid red scar. Her large breasts floated like islands, the nipples flat and pink. She didn't look at him or even acknowledge he was there. Staring at the wisps of hot steam her green eyes were glazed over.

Only when he dropped his robe to the ground about his feet did she look up at Erik. His hair was thrashed from the night before but his tempting lips were curved in a worried, sad smile. Unabashedly, Evelyn studied his graceful body as he stepped into the water and lowered down to his knees. Her eyes absorbed the toned muscles in his chest and arms, flexing as he moved and his rippled stomach, lightly dusted with brown hairs. His blue eyes watched her as intently as he came closer, his eyebrows knitted slightly.

Evelyn opened her arm to him, one hand still on her stomach. Nestling into the crook of her arm he kissed her collarbone and rested his head on her shoulder. With one hand Erik covered the one on her abdomen, twining his thick, musician fingers with her little, doll ones.

"Evelyn, amour? What is the matter?" he finally asked in a small whisper. She looked down at him, her eyes misted in slight tears. The hand clasped with his tightened and her lips turned at the ends. She swallowed hard and turned her face to the high ceiling, letting one cold tear slide down her hot cheek. A shattering sob escaped her, forcing her body to tremble.

"Mon amour, what is it?" Erik demanded softly, sitting up on an elbow, watching her in fear as she covered her face and cried. He put a hand on her wet shoulder but she yanked it away, splashing the water from her violent move. Sitting up she hugged her knees, burying her eyes into the flesh.

Troubled greatly by her actions, Erik put an arm about her shoulders, drawing her against him despite her tiny struggles. Quietly crying his chest Evelyn weakly beat at him, trying to get away. Despite herself she slumped against him, pressing her face into his hot skin. He soothed her as best he could, petting her hair and whispering in her ear.

"Oh, Erik! I-I am so scared!" she practically screamed, trying hard to breath in stuttering gasps. He pulled her into his lap, rocking her in the hot water, cradling her close to him.

"W-What if I'm pre-pregnant again? I am so-so scared! I couldn't l-live if it died like my first!" she cried pitifully. Erik held her tighter, almost afraid to trust himself to speak. She sobbed a while longer, quieting slowly. He felt his heart grow heavy in his chest as he thought more and more of that scar on her belly. She didn't know; she still didn't know. And he knew he would never tell her. Better to let her fear something that will never happen than tell her the awful truth. She'd be happier not knowing her fate.

"I do want a family with you, Erik. I really do. It's just that I am not ready to try again. Not so soon," she murmured heavily, startling him from his thoughts. She looked up at him, her eyes large and sorrowful. Exhausted from crying so hard, she laid her head against his shoulder, cupping his cheek with one hand. Her thumb ran over the deformed flesh, teasing the nerves.

"One day, okay? Would that make you happy?" she asked quietly, green studied the sad blue. Evelyn sat up and smiled slightly, brushing away a tear that had slipped free from Erik's eye. Drawing in a tight, strained breath he nodded, forcing himself to look placid. Evelyn smiled and kissed him sweetly, her lips wetted with tears.

Erik numbly kissed her back, his mind tumbling over the terrible secret he harbored from the woman he loved so dearly.


	25. Chapter 25

-1Weeks passed easily, Evelyn chatting easily and slowly coming back to walking. As March finally passed into April, the mansion became more and more home to them. They rarely went into town, focusing more on turning their new palace to their liking. Erik began painting the ballroom ceiling with a mural. He wasn't extraordinarily talented at art with a brush but he managed to create a baseline sketch upon the clean slate. It was still life mainly of the surrounding mountains and flora.

Evelyn busied herself with chatting with the hired help, going about with a cane and maid. While he worked she would wander the gardens and visit the stables, acquainting herself with everyone that worked at the mansion. The cook Erik had hired, old Madame McCormick from Ireland, instantly took her under wing and talked with her like a daughter. The Madame, as the other servants called her, was a portly woman with frayed fire hair and gossipy blue eyes. Evelyn would be found sitting at the kitchen counter, talking and listening to the woman's tales of her birth home on the island, helping her peel potatoes.

The short red hair had finally grown back to her lower shoulder blades and some of her lively color had been restored. To Erik's extreme relief she seemed to gain weight again to a healthy level. As for himself, he was constantly tormented with conflicting feelings.

It took a while but the servants were congenial with him and would carry on a sizeable conversation with him. It was more than he could ask for. None seemed to question his mask, that he wore only about others, but neither did they appear to want to. This made him happier than he had ever been around people and more comfortable. What troubled him deeply was the predicament that he hid well.

No matter how he questioned himself and no matter how he ranted to himself when he was alone, Erik could not find solace. The secret bit at him and screamed in his mind when he was alone, but the pain grew to scratching and clawing in his skull when Evelyn was near. He wanted to tell her; he wanted to so badly. But he didn't want to hurt her. She didn't deserve being hurt again. He knew that one day she was going to wonder why she did not become pregnant after their many romps in bed and she would realize then. When that day happened he truly did not know what he should do.

So he pounded out his frustration on his new piano and his mural. It would take up hours and hours of his time, taking all his concentration, draining him. Once he went for three days straight, drawing away, erasing and scribbling before flying down the ladders to his instrument, furiously beating his music.

Evelyn would watch silently, her brow creased in worry and fear. A couple of times she tried pleading with him to rest or to eat but he wouldn't. As long as she could she sat up in the plush chair next to the piano, watching and listening into the long hours of the night before she slept, curled up like a cat. Her heart ached to beg with him what was wrong but she knew he wouldn't tell. As much as he understood her worry, her presence tortured him even more.

On such a night Erik finally revealed to her his full talent at music. It was near two in the morning when he came down from the ceiling, sweating and hurting. His black linen shirt was half wet in sweat and clung to his aching muscles. The cords in his back, shoulders and arms were sore from the position he had been sketching in, crouched under an arch. Damp brown hair fell in his face distractedly as he peeled off his painting gloves, steely eyes fixed on his next victim: the piano. His mask was still on though he did not notice at all.

Settling down at the bench Erik stretched and flexed his fingers, preparing to burst into a powerful aria of frustration. A movement behind the raised up back made him pause, accompanied by a low murmur. He lowered his arms and curiously peered over into the red chair. It was dark in this room, the only light coming from the faint lanterns in the mirror hall.

Evelyn was rousing from sleep in the plush chair, her bent arm cushioning her head and spilling hair. She wore a white, cotton nightgown; the one she had wore in their night at Troyes. The ends covered her legs except for her pale little toes which peeped out. They were pulled up and curled under her body, making her rest in a comfortable ball. The short, puffed sleeves let her thinned, white-skinned arms be bared to the warmth of the spring night.

A small smile crossed Erik's face but his heart wrenched. He watched as her eyelids tightened, the dark lashes flutter and the lips twist in a yawn. Sitting up she stretched slightly, opening her sleepy green eyes. Running her tiny hands through her thick, red curls she looked about to spot her love staring at her.

"Hey," she greeted easily, swinging her legs from under her to rest on the hardwood floor. Erik smiled gently, a crease of a frown fluttering over his thoughtful brow. Resting his hands in his lap he gave her a scornful look.

"You need to go up to bed. It's far too late."

"What about you? Will you come to bed?"

He frowned and shook his head. Standing up he walked over and sat on the armrest of the chair, reaching out to stroke her forehead. Evelyn smiled up at him pleadingly and grasped his other hand.

"I am not tired. There is no rest for me," he explained to her for the fifth time that day. It irritated him that she kept asking but at the same time he appreciated her sympathy. It pained his heart to see her so worried but it burned him more that he could not tell her. So far she had not asked but it appeared that wouldn't last.

"Ma Erik, s'il te plaît, tell me what is wrong. I have been silent and I have chewed my lip quietly but I am about to go absolutely mad!" she exclaimed, sliding off the seat to sit on the floor, holding his hand. "Mon amour, tell me what has been bothering you. S'il te plaît?"

He looked down at her on the floor with a bittersweet smile tapering the ends of his lips. His blue-grey eyes gleamed from the light in the mirror hall, one of them staring out from behind the white porcelain mask. Light brown hair fell in his face, half held back from the form it had previously held. The muscles in his neck strained and moved as he sighed and thought.

Not a word would escape him in explanation, nothing. He couldn't find a lie or break the horrible news he held in his heart. Instead he stood, smiling down at her. Helping her stand he led her to the piano.

"The sun is sleeping quietly  
Once upon a century," the first words of a song he had once heard swelled and slipped free from his golden throat. It was a little harsh and unrefined from over a year of practically no use. But Erik was an expert and knew exactly how to tune his voice after one try. Sitting down on the piano bench he tugged her hand for her to join him. Sliding down next to him, her wide green eyes watched in curious wonder. Looking away Erik easily played a light and sad tune, hardly carrying over to the middle of the keys. Taking a deep breath he let the smooth music he had locked up in his heart pour forth.

"Wistful oceans calm and red  
Ardent caresses laid to rest  
For my dreams I hold my life  
For wishes I behold my night," his velvety voice gained momentum, echoing in the room and out into the hall with the underlying music of the piano. The sound of his thick, mournful and reverent voice reverberated through to Evelyn, sending chills up her spine and flesh. She had always hoped he would sing for her but could never bring herself to ask.  
"The truth at the end of time  
Losing faith makes a crime."

A low and quiet stanza followed these two lines. Tears ran into her eyes at the pure sadness in his music and the bubbling happiness that danced under the shield of sorrow. Evelyn put a timid hand on his shoulder, the sensitive skin picking up the vibrations from his chest, rumbling and growling the low words of the next verse.  
"I wish for this night-time  
To last for a lifetime  
The darkness around me  
Shores of a solar sea," the words rose up to an overpowering sound, the last syllable rolling like the very ocean he sang of, flowing over her ears and drowning her in its strength. Her eyes closed and her breath hitched as the crystalline tune struck at her heart. Suddenly the music dropped again to a slow and tantalizing serenade. A brush skimmed her cheek, startling her to look. Erik gazed at her with a sweet smile before turning back to the keys._  
_"Oh how I wish to go down with the sun  
Sleeping  
Weeping  
With you."  
The last line was drawn out in a whisper, hanging in the air like chimes. Erik took her hand and stood to tempt her into the dining hall. Evelyn, swept up with the spell of his voice and the pure love he poured into it, breathlessly followed, letting him take her wherever he pleased.

The hall was emptied of carpets, chairs and the great table, covered instead by buckets of paint and towering ladders and benches that reached up to the vaulted ceilings. Evelyn took a moment to gaze up at the pencil sketching and charcoal linings Erik had laid down that night before gazing at the man. Lanterns hung on hooks about the room, reflecting in the mirrors to send the room in a golden glow with the fires as repeated miniature stars.

Coming close to her, Erik put a hand on her waist and lifted one of hers to rest on his broad shoulder. A grin crossed her face before she leaned down to gather the ends of her gown to lift them up to her shins. Erik took her free hand with the ends and clasped it warmly. With a quick step he led her into a waltz, clutching her close to him as he sang.  
"Sorrow has a human heart  
From my god it will depart  
I'd sail before a thousand moons  
Never finding where to go."

Their bare feet glided over the polished wooden floor lightly, perfectly turning and dancing to his voice. Spinning around and around, Evelyn felt drunk and intoxicated by the lights and mirrors reflecting their image a million times over. Leaning back in his arms she let herself get lost in the song and his deep, powerful voice.  
"Two hundred twenty-two days of light  
Will be desired by a night  
A moment for the poet's play  
Until there's nothing left to say," Erik's voice dimmed out as they came to a slow dance, watching each other in a dazed wonder as they turned slowly, pulled tightly together. Erik looked down at her and smiled gently.  
"I wish for this night-time…"  
He let go of her hand to cup her cheek, tilting her face up towards his. He leaned in until his hot breath blew over her face and tickled her nervous skin. Evelyn felt her breath hitch as he whispered the last line.  
"I wish for this night-time…"

The words sent her mind reeling before he closed in and captured her lips in a fiery kiss. She whimpered slightly when he teased her bottom lip with his tongue, tracing the slight opening. Allowing his access, she felt herself lean back as he pulled her firmly against him and plundered her mouth. Erik growled and let one hand reach up to grasp her longer red hair. Pulling away he smiled at her dazed expression and panted for breath.

"I told you I could sing, ma cher."

Evelyn stared at him in a drugged way but her green eyes were darkened from something. Something he knew had possessed his own eyes. Suddenly she reached up and grabbed him about the neck, putting a feverish kiss upon his lips. He laughed and she slid her tongue into his mouth, turning his chuckle into a heated moan. Their tongues battled for dominance while their hands roamed, tearing at clothing.

Tiny hands tugged Erik's half wet shirt free from his trousers, ripping a couple of buttons off before flinging the garment away. Evelyn broke their kiss to suckle on his strong, thick neck as his hands hitched up the ends of her nightgown. Giving a moan he grasped her bottom from under the dress, lifting her up enough so she could wrap her bare legs about his lean waist.

Erik walked them over to one of the walls, having problems making his feet move due to his desire. He felt himself straining hard against the wool of his pants, almost to the point of pain. Pressing her back against the wall he pushed his hips into the cradle of her thighs, against her bare, wet flesh. The low dip back of her white nightgown allowed the cold mirror to press against her hot flesh. She gasped and threw her head back, allowing access to her neck.

Biting and nibbling on her neck Erik gave a low groan when her hands slid about his bared shoulders, kneading and grasping at it. Evelyn stifled a cry when his hands, softened from being inside sweaty gloves, slid under her neckline to meet the gentle flesh of her breasts. Fingers pulled the material down, freeing them to his hungry mouth. Evelyn cooed and threaded her hands through his brown hair as he licked and teased the hardened nipple, making her squirm.

In response Evelyn thrust her hips against him, grinding herself against his straining member. Erik shuddered and cried out, pushing against her. He reached down to unbuckle his belt, releasing himself from the hot confines of his clothing. As gently as possible he reached down under the folds of her dress and bunched them about her hips more.

With a prodding hand he stroked the tender flesh of her sex, making his lover arch and moan loudly.

"Erik…Erik, now!" Evelyn panted into his ear before biting it then lathing the spot with her tongue.

"As you wish," Erik growled throatily before shifting his hips and sliding into her hot, moist folds in one stroke. Evelyn gasped before squirming, her body trying to thrust against him. She felt him stretch her and brand heat within her cavity. He throbbed and pulsed deep within her, making her walls contract and squeeze him deeper.

Before he could think Erik slid out before slamming back in, up to the hilt. He gasped and moaned, his hips jerking. Stopping for a second he caught his breath, trying to steady his unstable body. Evelyn waited patiently, keeping the grip in his hair and petting his scalp.

Taking a deep sigh Erik moved again, pulling out to easily slide back in. His tempo picked up gradually, each thrust becoming faster and harder, driving her up and against the glass. They were timed and sure, slicked by her wetness. Plunging deeper and deeper into her willing body he grunted, enjoying the sound of her moans and cries. Burying his face in her hair he glimpsed movement over her shoulder. A wicked grin grew on his face.

"Evelyn, mon amour, look!" he groaned, not stopping his steady movement. Evelyn opened an eye to find the image of them reflected from across the room. She gasped, watching her own mouth fall open and her head fall back against the mirror as Erik sped up. Clutching his hair she kissed him, watching herself do so, mesmerized by actually seeing Erik's hips thrust into her.

Erik reached up to grab her hands, stretching them upwards to pin them against the cold glass. He plunged deep within her, stilling himself and nearly screaming at the feeling of her walls sucking at him and pulling him in. Pressure built within him like a knot, cutting off his breath as he frantically tried moving again.

Evelyn gasped, tossing her head side to side in an attempt to find some way to gain release. Erik took one final stroke within her sweltering flesh as his hand reached down to roll her clitoris between two fingers. Screaming his name Evelyn pressed her body against him, her walls clamping down upon his trembling cock, pulling it deeper within her. Erik's hips jerked helplessly as he exploded within her in hot, thick and filling spurts of seed. The wave of orgasm slowly died, making them both incredibly dizzy.

Still locked deep within her Erik felt himself slide down to the ground to his knees, Evelyn falling with him. Leaning heavily against her into the mirror he panted, his breath fogging the area where his lips met the glass. Evelyn kept her legs locked about his waist, unwilling to let go of him, her trembling hands running over his hair and back.

Erik kissed her cheek and her sweaty shoulder, reveling in the slightly salty taste. He sat up a little, looking into her eyes before smiling at her satisfied, sleepy smirk.

"Judging by those moans, I never should've doubted your singing."

After that night the obsessive self-abuse ended, having lasted three days. It came at a price however. He was bound to bed for over a week from sleep deprivation and malnutrition. Evelyn lightly scolded him, all the while smiling and stroking his forehead. Afterwards he drifted to normal, feeling better than he had before. Evelyn would smile again and ask him to walk with her along the lake. Things returned to the happy state they both had dreamed for.


	26. Chapter 26

-1One day Evelyn received the door when a messenger rang, requesting precisely for her and Erik. Since he was napping she took the letter and thanked the man. Going into the parlor to the right she settled down on a couch, ignoring the dusting maids.

"Dear Mademoiselle Jacqueline de Soche,

Due to the nature of your injury, I would like permission to visit you and your fiancé for a check up. The damage to your womb needs to be inspected closely as it finishes the final stages of healing. Furthermore I am sending adoption papers. I believe that with your predicament a child would-"

Shaking hands dropped the white paper on to her lap, shining against the satin peach color of her dress. Evelyn stared at the paper, her dazed eyes reading the last few sentences although it took her mind forever to register the fact. Slumping back against the couch she felt her curled hair fall about her face. A hot, fiery feeling engulfed her suddenly, frying the tears that had grown in her eyes.

Standing up Evelyn gripped the page in her gloved hand, crumpling it in her rage. Her slipper-shod feet flew across the floor as she ran up the stairs, one hand holding the folds of her dress up. She panted as she reached the second floor, running still. Marching up to their bedroom door she flung them open, letting them slam against the walls.

Furious green eyes watched as Erik shot up in bed, startled and surprised. He wore no shirt and loose trousers under the sheets. Sitting up he looked at her like a scared and confused deer with wide blue eyes as she stormed over to the bed, her brows furrowed in fury.

"Erik? Is there something you need to tell me?" she whispered in a deadly voice, like a snake poised to strike. Erik actually found himself utterly intimidated by the smaller, weaker woman. Then he spotted a squeezed piece of paper in her hand which shook and clenched like a vice. His heart instantly dropped and he felt sick. She knew, God in Heaven, have mercy, but she knew.

Evelyn flung the paper at him, it falling to the bed like a wing of some bird of terrible omen. Silently he looked at the parchment, too sad and afraid to gaze at her.

"When were you going to tell me?" she asked lowly, her voice almost gravelly in its rage. "When?!"

"I wasn't," he choked out, his throat constricted from guilt and self-hate.

"Why?!"

"I-I was afraid I would hurt you."

"Oh? And I'm not hurt now? Sacré(goddamn), Erik! You knew I was going to find out!" she screamed angrily. He flinched and stared at his hands, morbidly wishing she'd just hit him instead of yell. She gave a frustrated groan and clutched her hair, pacing and trying to calm herself.

"You weren't going to tell me? What about when we first made love and I promised to give you a family? Erik, Erik, zut, je t'aime but right now I…I really hate you," she demanded, her rage beginning to fall a little, replaced by desperation. Erik looked up to find her eyes streaming heated tears and her lips faltering for words. What she said slammed his heart over and over like a hammer, beating it to a bloody pulp in his chest. In severe hopelessness Evelyn sat down on the lounge chair, her hands lying limply in her lap. A sob escaped her, shaking her entire frame. "And now I can't try again? I can't?!"

Erik stood from the bed but as soon as he moved she shot up, backing away from him. Her angry, despairing eyes glared at him and her hands clenched into themselves. He stopped, not sure whether he should advance or not. He wanted desperately to hold her and kiss her but he knew she wouldn't allow it.

"What did I ever do? Mon dieu, what did I do to deserve this?" she asked despairingly before clapping a hand to her mouth to stifle anguished screams. Erik instinctively reached out for her, wanting to comfort her burning soul. Evelyn shook her head at him, her horrified and miserable face wet with tears. Without another word she ran out the room, her feet slipping on the polished floors. Erik stood mutely, his body numb from the pain he felt swallowing his heart. He heard her run down the stairs and to the front door, crying. It flew open and slammed shut with a resounding bang like a gun.

There was absolutely no sound after that; none whatsoever. And Erik feared that it would remain that way if she could not forgive him.


	27. Chapter 27

-1Evelyn ran and ran like she had when she had found the entrance to La Rue Scribe. But she was running away from Erik, not to him. Hot, filmy tears blinded her as she trotted up the dirt path that led into the tall woods around their home. Her silk slippers were matted in dust and grass dew and the peach ends of her dress were wet. Wracking sobs attacked her, forcing her to slow as she immersed herself in the cool shade of the trees.

There was no shrubbery or cumbersome vines in the forest, not but clear, clean grass and a carpet of overlying red poppies. The ground up to the path had been steep but now it leveled out. Evelyn ran further along, the sight of the flowers and abundant life flaming her hurting heart.

When she could no longer see the mansion or the lake she finally stopped and panted for breath through tears. The path danced up a sharp incline, bordered by trees but below the small cliff to her left was a clear space, sporting a growth of wild flowers. A large, low and flat rock was nestled amongst the red poppies. Gasping through pained lungs Evelyn walked into the grass, into a patch of light that shown through the canopy above.

Settling down on the low rock, Evelyn plucked a flower, twirling the slim, strong stem between two fingers, mutely watching the petals sway in a hypnotizing dance. A heavy shuddering sigh escaped her, causing her to deflate greatly.

Turning her face to the brilliant sunlight, she closed her sore and sleepy eyes. The warmth of the sun couldn't destroy the chill in her heart and soul. It felt like some sucking void was trying to swallow her in its void and she was scrambling to get away.

What was she to do? She could never have children again. Her promise was empty to Erik. Why was she even alive if she could not raise a family and do some good on this earth? She felt anger towards everything and everybody at that moment. Anger at Erik for not telling her and keeping her in the dark and anger at God, were the two foremost hates in her heart. How could he? She wondered despairingly. Slowly her wrath towards him turned to desperate need.

Evelyn wanted nothing more at that moment than to curl up in his arms and cry pathetically. But she couldn't bring herself to move towards their home. She was so weak and despicable! All of the moments of when she should have been strong and had not been came rushing at her. It turned her gut in self-hate. None of this would have happened if she was strong. Erik had only wanted to help her and keep her happy. She knew it and she turned the anger at him to herself.

And God…God. Why did he do this to her? Was it because she slept with Erik without being married? Evelyn wasn't religious but she believed in God and half the time hated him. Did he even exist? If he did then why did he make her suffer so much? Wasn't she meant to raise a family and help her love? Wasn't that good? Was she truly a monster then for all the sins forced upon her?

"What do you want from me?" Evelyn whispered tiredly, weary of all these demons that haunted her mind. "If you can hear me, tell me. What do you want? What have I done wrong?"

Her voice rose to a heated rage as she stood up, her glaring eyes defying the sun.

"What the hell did I do to deserve this?! Surely there are worse people in the world than me and Erik! Stop it! Stop this, s'il te plaît?!" she yelled, clenching her fists and looking about, as if hoping some angel would tell her. Tears welled in her eyes again, blinding her. Hysterically she fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands and crying hard again.

"Stop it! Stop it! S'il te plaît, s'il te plaît, stop!" she howled in despair. Slumping forward she beat her fists upon the ground, tearing her gloves on tiny rocks and bruising her hands. Screaming in rage she slammed them over and over, her tears dropping onto the battered poppies.

Sobbing she stopped her merciless torture on her hands and the defenseless flowers to fall against the rock. Resting her arms on the hard surface she buried her face in their cradle, letting out tiny screams. She quieted slowly, letting her tears dry on her face, tightening the skin. The flesh felt numb and unreal to her. Letting her forehead press against the rough, cool rock Evelyn sniffled and sighed.

"He can hear you, you know," a voice said from nearby. Evelyn froze, her heart pounding fast in her chest cavity. That voice…oh, no, no, not again. The gravelly, threatening timber and smooth danger in those few words frightened her to the point she felt as though she was going to faint.

"You should be careful as to what you say to him," he continued easily. Shaking and trembling she looked up from the protective warm of her crossed arms to spot him leaning against a tree. Bjorn stared at her fixedly, his cold, dark eyes revealing nothing to her tumbling mind. Evelyn watched him like a rabbit poised to run, her eyes wide and lip trembling. His blood red cloak matched the flowers and made a mockery of the comparison. She doubted he ever was as innocent as a flower.

Suddenly she let her rigid stance droop. What was the point in being scared of him anymore? He had taken away everything from her with no a flutter of remorse. Why bother running? Why try screaming? It wouldn't do any good. Evelyn placed a bored look on her face, turning to look down at her slightly bleeding hands.

"What do you want, Bjorn?" she muttered wearily through a sigh. She pulled out her handkerchief from a pocket in her petticoat. Dabbing at the blood that raised from her tiny cuts she waited. There was a long quiet before he answered.

"Last month your father won a lottery of sorts, putting your family back into extreme wealth. Laterr wishes to collect his bride and finish the matrimony," he answered blatantly. Evelyn sighed, figuring about as much. She looked up at him with tired eyes.

"So he sent you?"

"Oui."

"And I suppose that if I don't cooperate he'll have you kill Erik and beat me to submission?"

"Again, oui."

"Alright, then," she replied in a hollow voice. Standing up she brushed the hair from her face and straightened the folds of her light dress. Drawing in a strengthening breath, Evelyn nodded to the man, her face locked in a blank gaze.

Bjorn watched her mutely for a moment before uncrossing his arms and standing straight. For a moment he appeared to give her an approving smirk before turning and walking deeper into the forest.

Silently she followed, picking her way through the poppies, still clutching one in her hand. Keeping about three feet back she watched the ground, letting a dead weight settle in upon her. There was no point fighting this anymore. She had been beaten, stabbed and purged of everything that brought her happiness. Except Erik. Maybe if she was gone he could continue on and find a wife who could bring him children. That would make her happy. She was sure he'd be miserable for a while but he was strong. If she vanished from his life he wouldn't have to suffer with a woman who kept bringing pain. He deserved that much.


	28. Chapter 28

-1The paint dribbled down the brushes hair, streaming across the wooden handle and staining his hand. Angrily, he wiped away the blue smear, continuing on with his work. The damn flower wouldn't form the way he wanted it to. Standing up on a platform on two ladders, Erik's neck was bent back, his eyes watching his work above him.

Up twenty feet in the air, he growled in frustration and turned to throw his brush at the cloth covered wood floor. It clattered loudly, splaying deep cerulean paint across the white sheets. Heaving a deep breath Erik climbed down the ladder, his neck kinked and hurting.

Not that it mattered anyways. As he reached the ground Erik gazed out the window at the forest, his eyes sad and worried. Evelyn hadn't returned in five hours and it was quickly becoming dark. None of the servants or the Madame had seen her or heard from her since she had bolted outside.

He was so scared at that moment, so very terrified. What if she didn't return? What if she was hurt? He wanted to go search for her, holler at the sky for her to come back. But he knew she wouldn't come. She would return on her own and his intrusion might anger her further.

Pacing about the house like a caged tiger, Erik waited for another hour, with each second passing like an eternity. Finally, when the sun had set and the night was deepening, he snapped. Barking orders for a search party he let the head butler organize it. Running out to the stables he collected a cloak and a second for her.

Saddling a dark brown stallion, Erik climbed atop it. Kicking its flanks he forced it into an immediate gallop, speeding out towards the forest. The horse snorted and panted as it moved quickly up the incline of the dirt path.

Frantically Erik searched the deepening gloom, looking for a flash of pearly peach or dark red. He thanked God for his good eyesight silently, praying as well to find her. When they reached level ground the stallion turned in a circle, confused by the dark he was running in. Slamming his heels into the horse's sides Erik sent him up the road at a fast trot.

His head dashed from side to side, looking all around as fast and thoroughly as he could. When the light faded even more he cursed himself for not bringing a torch or a lantern. The lights from town and the mansion disappeared, leaving him in the dark of pre-moonrise.

The horse nickered and tossed his head at the dark, his eyes trying to find the path. Erik leaned forward and patted the strong neck, trying to calm the animal. His own heart thudded in panic at not being able to find Evelyn. He looked up to find the stars and moon finally showing above the black treetops.

Light slowly flooded the ground with its silvery glow, revealing many rocks and curled flowers. Erik got down to lead the horse along the path, trying to see any shapes that would resemble Evelyn. A brilliant white caught his eye from off to his left. A cliff ledge with towering trees hung over a small clearing. A large rock stood amongst the soft grass and sleeping poppies.

Leaving the horse, he waded through the flowers to stand by the stone, his sharp eyes staring down at a white shape on the ground. Kneeling down he plucked it from the ground and held it in his hands.

It was a lacy, white handkerchief with sky blue embroidery that danced along the square edges. Dabs of dark blood spotted it here and there, smeared and faint. Erik choked slightly and fingered the delicate cloth, trying hard not to panic yet. It was Evelyn's handkerchief that the nurse had given her from the hospital.

Where had the blood come from? Where was she? Now panic gripped him like a deadly vice in his chest, squeezing his heart painfully. Standing up he yelled her name, calling for her. Forgetting the horse he ran about, deeper into the forest on his own, constantly hollering her name. his voice echoed about him hollowly in reply. An owl hooted in annoyance and a nightingale trilled but that was it.

Tears flooded his eyes as he continued running, desperately searching for her. This dark he was lost in was different from the one he had become accustomed to under the Opera. It was open and moving, as if the landscape was alive. Everything suddenly looked as if it could have been her. Every gray shape held some resemblance to a part of her body.

"Evelyn?!" he called loudly. "Evelyn, I'm sorry! I am! S'il te plaît! Come out, mon amour! Where are you?!"

No one answered. He stopped in his tracks and listened to the heavy silence. Not even nighttime insects called back. Turning in circles he begged God silently to give her back. Falling to his knees, Erik calmed himself and prayed. He prayed for an hour for her to come back to him and forgive him. He made inane promises to her and God in his mind, all in the hopes of her suddenly appearing.

That was the way they found him, kneeling there in the dark, lost in the woods. The search party and a couple of police arrived, bearing lanterns and dogs that howled in the dark. Earlier they had found his horse running amuck and searched for him. No one had found her, not even a trace.

With a heavy heart and mind, Erik allowed himself to be guided back to the house, feeling quite hopeless and lost. He didn't want to search anymore. The small one he had led with himself had drained him mentally. It made him feel pathetic but he really didn't care. She must've gone somewhere to be alone. Maybe she was in town. The Madame had gone herself to search for her.

Erik allowed them to take him back home and seat him in the library with a cup of strong tea. Slumping down in the chair he watched them close the door and leave him in the dimly lit room. He turned the high backed chair to face the window, unable to look anymore at the towering bookshelves which seemed to judge him.

The roses had begun to bloom beautifully, their bushes many and reaching up to the star-sprinkled sky. They were assorted in color and breed but the main ones were of a strange species Evelyn loved. They were medium sized and bloomed fruitfully on the gnarled branches. The outside of the flower was a soft and snowy white but the inside was a blushing dark red. It was called the Fire and Ice Rose, rare and splendid. When Erik had asked her why she favored this certain rose she merely said it was because it was different and special.

Staring down at the roses Erik felt the swollen feeling in his heart swell even more in his chest. The moonlight shined down upon the blossoms with a soft glow that made the garden ethereal. A fountain stood near the middle of it, splashing clear water into a pool. A statue of a fallen woman angel stood there, her gentle hands reaching down to the water which streamed from a spout under her bare feet. He gazed upon her infinitely sad face and mourning eyes and felt as if he was staring directly at Evelyn. This was going to drive him utterly mad.

Erik jumped up when there was a knock at the door, loud but polite. It opened and the Madame came in, panting and gasping for breath. Fear seized his heart as she fanned herself and tried to breath, her pudgy hand patting her heart. He waited with forced patience until she finally spoke.

"Someone spotted her! Near the train station! The lass was…she was with another man," she stuttered between breaths. Erik felt himself stiffen and anger swell inside him. It collapsed immediately when the Madame finished in her thick Irish accent. "He was wearing red and looked quite dangerous, sir."

The older woman watched in amazement as Erik sat back down again, his grey-blue eyes wide and scared. He swallowed several times before covering his face with his hands and trembling.

"Leave me!" he demanded in a shaky growl. When the door closed he silently let a few tears fall, trying hard to control his terror. Laterr had come for her again. Why? What on earth could he want from her?

A thousand more unformed thoughts plagued his mind for over ten minutes before he collected himself. Uncovering his face Erik thought clearly before collecting a pen and a piece of paper.

Frantically scribbling away Erik gritted his teeth and forced the resentment to whom he was writing. When he finally got to Paris, he'd need help.


	29. Chapter 29

-1"You should eat something, mademoiselle," Bjorn offered, more of a demand than anything else. Evelyn looked at him blankly and at the plate of food he held. She frowned at the soup and bread before turning to look back out the window. He didn't offer food out of kindness of care but merely because she had not eaten in two days. Laterr wouldn't want a half-starved bride.

Bjorn set the plate down then left the compartment on the train, locking the sliding door behind him. Evelyn waited until his footsteps died away before she glanced again at the potato soup. A twisted grin hit her lips as she gazed upon the steaming soup. Probably poisoned with some sleeping narcotic.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she sank down in her seat as much as her whalebone corset would allow. It had been two full days of travel. First they went to Troyes than backtracked to Vienna to throw anyone of their trail. Now they headed straight for Paris which was more than three days away.

Strangely, Evelyn felt no want for Erik to come save her. She wasn't worth it. She actually hoped he would forget all about her and continue on in peace. He didn't deserve to have to fight and suffer for her. All that occupied her heart was a thick depression and a resigned calm of mind, like one on the brink of dying.

Maybe she would die. Maybe she could starve herself of water and food and slowly fade away. That might be better than living with Laterr.

Evelyn looked out the window at the sickeningly bright day. The grass and trees were rich in color and vibrancy. They passed small farms and green fields of growing crops, dotted by tiny farmhouses and barns. There was not a cloud in the sky and the sun dangled in full noon.

Suddenly the compartment door opened again. She looked to see Bjorn standing there with a flask of water and a funnel. His eyes glittered in frustration at her defiance to eat or sleep. Evelyn sighed again, knowing what was going to happen.

Briskly Bjorn closed the door and drew the shades, shielding them from spying eyes. Walking up he grabbed her throat roughly, tilting her head back.

"Scream and you'll make this harder for both of this," he threatened, opening the flask with his teeth. Evelyn blinked at him and shrugged wearily.

"I wouldn't even if I wanted to."

Bjorn stuck the end of the funnel in her mouth in reply. Evelyn made a disgusted face at the taste of copper but did not struggle. When he poured the water into the funnel, she closed her throat, stubbornly not drinking. He frowned in annoyance when the water merely filled up the cylinder instead of disappearing. Quickly he smacked her across the face, keeping the water right were it was.

"You will drink, mademoiselle," he growled, his gloved hand massaging her throat in an attempt to force her to swallow. Evelyn gave up and limply let the water slid down to her stomach, tasting a strange metallic flavor in the warm fluid. After making her drink almost half the flask Bjorn pulled the funnel away and stepped back.

Wiping her mouth with a napkin Evelyn glowered at him. Bjorn stared back coldly before turning and walking out the compartment. Strangely he didn't move to lock the door or even close it all the way. Instantly she knew why when the drug kicked in, sending her reeling to the cushions. Her head spun as if it was on wheels and her body seemed to disappear completely.

The moment her head hit the soft pillows her mind blackened and she was plunged into sleep.

When she awoke it was far past midnight and the compartment was dark. Sitting up she found the door locked and she was alone. Cursing the German assassin Evelyn rubbed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the headache the narcotic gave her.

Her stomach growled at her for food but she ignored it. Scooting closer to the window she looked out at the bleak landscape. It rained heavily, blocking most of her sight and blurring what lights there were out in the mountains. Shivering slightly Evelyn reached to tighten her petticoat when her hand brushed something cold on her chest.

Blindly her fingers fumbled with the object, feeling the smooth surface and heart-shape. Her throat constricted as she gripped the necklace, practically feeling the love of Erik through it. No tears burned her and no sobs escaped her. She merely sat there, gazing out the window, her hands playing with the pendant and eyes lost.

There she sat until dawn rose, weary and pale from the rain. Bjorn checked on her once or twice but otherwise completely ignored her. No thoughts of escape ran through her head and no hope from her end reached her. She didn't want those fluttering dreams anyway. The fate she had run from so naively before was now rushing at her as the trains wheels clattered noisily.

With wide, blank eyes she curled up on the bench like an infant, her hand clenched about the golden heart and her lips moving slightly in unformed thoughts.


	30. Chapter 30

-1"Monsieur? There is a message for you," a voice said from the station office. A young man stood there, holding out a carefully folded letter to Erik. He had just arrived back at Troyes, alone, and was waiting for a carriage to a hotel. Taking the note from the man he gave him a glower, sending him retreating back to the office.

Strolling out of the station Erik tucked his dark, heavy clock about him, hiding himself from the overhead lights that glared at him. Leaning against the stucco wall in the nights shadows, he broke the seal on the letter, wincing at the insignia. Patron de Chagney. With trembling hands he read the short note, his heart pounding in hope.

Monsieur 'de Soche'

Although we have had past incidents and grudges, we both understand your plea for help. We are willing to lend our services in anyway to help your fiancé. In return we should like a promise of civility in the future. Monsieur Roaul de Chagney will meet you at the station with a carriage tomorrow. Come disguised.

Sincerely,

Madamoiselle and Monsieur de Chagney

For a good few minutes Erik stared blatantly at the letter, almost as if he expected it to explode. He couldn't believe it; the fact just wasn't sticking in his mind. They were willing to help him. His former angel and her boy were actually going to lend their help in retrieving Evelyn! It was more than he believed possible.

Sending a prayer to God and to the two in Paris Erik tucked the letter away in a pocket. It startled him how easily he sent a silent praise towards his old rival and love. But when he considered what all this was for he knew it was worth it a million times over.

While he waited Erik gazed up at the stars, trying to force himself to think of a plan. He wanted to think of what to do and how they were actually going to rescue Evelyn but the nerves in his brain weren't responding. The nighttime sky was clear and full of mocking stars, twinkling and laughing. The air was warmer than last he had been here and ever fuller of the scent of flowers. The only sound was the trains fueling up and crickets that chirped forlornly.

Heaving a wanting sigh Erik reached into his pocket and drew out a watch on a long silver chain. His gloved fingers glided over the carved surface, trying to draw in the love Evelyn had placed within it. Tears stung his eyes as he read the inscription.

It was all his fault. He really should have told her when the damage was first done. It would've saved her a lot of pain. But the idea of any pain reaching her at all hurt him more than he could bear. Her anger wasn't unfair and he excepted it. But he couldn't allow her to go back to Laterr. Not after all they had gone through just to get her away.

Erik admitted that part of his reasoning was selfish. He wanted Evelyn; she was his now. No one else could have her. He missed her. He missed her more than he had missed Christine when she first left the lair. He missed her more than he had when he was first left alone after the incident. She saved him from that. She saved him from being utterly alone forever. The least he could do was save her now.

A carriage rattled from out of the night, startling him from his thoughts. Tucking the watch away, Erik pulled his fedora low and came up to the driver. After paying him he climbed into the compartment, settling into the shadows. He heard a loud yell and a snap of a whip before feeling the carriage begin driving off. The sound sent shivers down his spine. After all these years he couldn't rid himself of the terror whips sparked in him. Damn gypsies.

After a while he rested his head on the jolting carriage side, his eyes staring into the pitch black night. There was no moon and the stars suddenly seemed so far away. Erik felt a hand grip his heart painfully as he thought of the last time he was in Troyes. Their first kiss, their confession. He remembered how sweetly Evelyn had offered her lap so he could rest. The way she kissed his malformed skin and whispered how she adored him and loved him so much. The way her salty tears splattered on his face as he pretended to sleep.

Wiping a stray tear Erik sent another prayer to God for her to be safe, wherever she was. What was Bjorn doing to her right now? Were they already in Paris? What would Laterr do to her? Erik felt his heart burn in sudden rage. The marquis will regret it if he even found a scratch on her. So would that damn assassin and anyone else who got in his way.


End file.
